


A Deafening Silence

by Winter1231505



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship/Love, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26103544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter1231505/pseuds/Winter1231505
Summary: A lone survivor happens on a chance encounter with a group of strangers and saves them from some trouble. After which he goes to Jackson at the behest of said strangers, all the while trying not to let his secrets be uncovered.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

As the orange leaves crunched and shuffled alongside Sam’s feet, he could feel the trees rustling alongside the wind. He’d gone through many fall’s like this one, ones where the clouds blocked the sun and the wind loved to simply howl like a pack of wolves at midnight. However, there was something different this time, it wasn’t him; it wasn’t the forest around him, not even the weather. It was simply a feeling he was having, that something rotten was brewing, something he didn’t like one bit.

Surviving by yourself for as long as he did, one learns to trust their own instincts almost… well, instinctually. A hunch here or a thought there was the difference between life and death, and when you’re dealing with funguses that can burrow into your lungs in only a single breath that line has been narrowed distinctly.

‘Eyes on the prize bucko, don’t forget where you’re going’ he thought to himself while continuing along the forest path, eventually making it to his destination, the city.

A large and damaged ruin, overgrown with plants and fauna. The term ‘concrete jungle’ would be fitting if most of the concrete wasn’t buried by an ever-sprawling picture of nature taking it over. At one point, this place was most likely a bustling metropolis, filled with people and resources. He had heard stories from people who were alive before everything went to hell, about how there were massive buildings dedicated to selling things like clothing, food and whatever else they wanted, and then food started becoming scarce, people stopped making clothes, and the infected overran the cities. The government did it’s best to exterminate and keep most major cities infection free, and in some part, they were successful. But, eventually they would fall, all of them would. A firefly attack, a hidden spore in one of the buildings, corrupt groups within the government breaking off, whatever holdouts the FEDRA have left, they get smaller each day.

The sight in front of him was one such example, though it looked like they abandoned this one a long time ago. He had been making runs throughout the city for a few days now, scavenging whatever he could find and scrounging up whatever government supplies they left behind. Thankfully, the weather proved to be far more forgiving than last autumn, so there was no rain this time, letting Sam make a small makeshift camp beneath a dead tree trunk he used for cover. The camp was about a 5-minute walk away from the city’s outskirts, leading up to a small overlook letting him observe the buildings from afar.

He grabbed the binoculars from his backpack and observed. One of the lenses has been broken long ago, but then again most of the things he used were at least partially broken or damaged so as always he did the best with what he could and looked only with the half of the binoculars he hadn’t sawed off.

Like with all the other times it was dead quiet, at least from the outside. He held his breath for a second and focused to see if he could hear anything. Once again, nothing, save for the wind beginning to pick up.

‘Right, let’s hope those bastards are still sleeping’ and with that he began his trek into town. With luck, it would be his last and he could finally get down south out of this damn cold.

He never liked having to go into cities, though it was a necessity at this point, there were few places away from the beaten path with access to gunpowder, metals and scraps he needed, and one can only make do with a bow and arrow for so long.

Carefully, he began his trek into the city, keeping himself alert every step of the way. Infected were never his strong suit, not to fight, nor to sneak around, and not even to run from. They were unpredictable, focused, and sometimes it seemed even unstoppable. Humans, they could be exploited, manipulated, taken out easily if one was smart enough, but the infected were a different story. They don’t care about the difference between a grown adult or a child, the threat between someone with a knife and someone with a gun, or even if the path to their target can be passed, they only have one goal, to kill you and create more of them. He’s seen it all, throats being bit open, skulls being caved in, jaws getting ripped apart, to all of that getting shot between the eyes or having an arrow in the gullet do you in almost seems like a mercy. At least your corpse won’t be a fertilizer ground for a fresh batch of spores and fungus to carry over to the next unlucky bastard.

Once Sam could feel the concrete beneath his feet did he pick up the pace, it would be easier to hear something coming from inside the city, even though there a lot more places to get ambushed.

Today would hopefully be his final run, so from his pack he pulled out a small list of things he had already spotted but couldn’t bring with him yesterday.

‘Right, let’s see what’s gonna be on the shopping cart today.’ he thought to himself. Shopping carts themselves were always something that bothered Sam, too noisy, too hard to use. His father once told him how they were used constantly, before, but he honestly couldn’t understand why. A backpack, a crate, hell even a bag seemed to be more useful. ‘People back then were stupid… no wonder the world burned up’. One last time he checked the list;

-Wrench (auto shop)  
-Canned foods (FEDRA camp (2 cans left, gotta get ‘em))  
-Hammer (gun store)  
-Jaw screw (also gun store)  
-Nice shirt (convenience store on the right next to liquor store, 2 miles away from town center)

‘Forgot about the damn shirt’ he thought to himself, though honestly it was better he didn’t get it yet, due to the little bit of sewer diving he did yesterday. 

Moving with a quicker pace he began jogging through the locations he was completely sure were empty. Though he didn’t like taking them on, there was only so long someone could attempt to go around infected, so Sam also made work to try and take them out, if only the ones who proved to be in his way. A few spike traps there, a couple of holes there, and soon the city proved to be a bit safer. Well, “safer” in the most loosest of terms.

Eventually he got to his first stop, the auto station. This place was likely used to fix up whatever military vehicles FEDRA still had left, if the armored APC still lifted up near the ceiling was anything to go by. The wrench was a rusty old thing, but it was sturdy if the dead body of the stalker right next to it was anything to go by. ‘If you can cave a spore filled skull in, you can fix up a few bolts and screws’.

One place down, three more to go. Next up, the FEDRA camp.  
Some light jogging, climbing in and out a few buildings, and occasional backtracking due to getting lost later he made it to the FEDRA camp.

It was as deserted as a military base could be. Usually, when these situations happened, standard protocol was to secure civilian evacuation first then extract all resources available. Standard protocol, however, didn’t account for the human condition, and the fact that most soldiers usually tucked tail and ran the moment the outer perimeter had been breached. Didn’t matter if it was infected or fireflies or whatever else the world managed to throw at them, humans adapt, they survive, no matter whoever else is left behind.

‘Now which one of these is the cook tent?’ he looked along the line of half-torn army tents. It seemed like this was more a supply post than an actual living district, but he was no expert on FEDRA stations, so maybe those assumptions should be left to the people who abandoned their own. ‘I can’t say I’m much better though…’

Eventually he remembered the path to the supply tent and acquired what little canned foods the soldiers had left behind. It was a good find in all honesty; he had to make two full runs before just to get all the other things he needed, mostly shell casings and meds. With a can of peaches and strawberry in his pack, he had only two more places to go. One more if it looked like he couldn’t make it out before nighttime.

The wind was starting to pick up again, but thankfully most of the clouds had parted so there was no real chance of rain, at least for now. From the sun finally rearing its ugly head it looked like it was about 2 hours or so past noon, so he still had time to go around and pick up all he needed. Until yet another thought came to his mind, or rather, an observation.

‘It’s quiet.’

In the first few days he was going around the city, Sam could find no end of infected mumbling and shambling about. A lot of them looked brand new, around a week or so of infection time on them. Most likely other survivors working in groups, scavenger crews working for nearby settlements. As for the others, it was the typical Stalkers and Clickers, but not a single other person. ‘Good. The less people around the less complicated it gets.’

Like with the infected, he had seen them all. From starving mothers and children to raiders and hunters just looking for a fresh new catch. Whenever he ran into any of them however, he tended to keep his distance, so much so they usually never even noticed he was there, and like a little rat, he would slink away without a sound. It wasn’t all bad though, there were times when he had found people in danger; hungry, thirsty, tired, injured or even currently being injured, and through his thick skull came some small shred of decency, so Sam decided to help them. In turn, he had their ‘everlasting thanks’, some of them even offered to have him join up with their community or group or repaid his kindness with some small token of gratitude. And yet, whenever he declined their offers of help, of companionship or of repayment, he was always met with the same looks. Relief, confusion, anger, understanding. He’s seen it all.

No one likes a drifter, much less a wandering one. If he wasn’t seen as a target then he was seen as a victim. Some poor broken soul with a scar that couldn’t be healed. In reality it was just simpler this way. He didn’t have to worry about anyone else getting in his way or slowing him down, nor did he have to worry about being a bother to others. His father always told him that people look for others as a form of comfort, a linchpin to keep them steady in the darkest of times, and to lift them up even higher in the brightest. That in the end, it’s just a part of human nature.

‘Ever the damn poet you were pops.’ If it were an inevitable part of human nature then it would seem Sam didn’t have a need for it. He survived this long by himself after all. Everything falls, buildings, roads, people, you just have to accept it and move on. Everything falls, eventually.

One good thing about all his journeys was that he could debate his existence all by himself for as much as he wanted. ‘I think I’ve had my fill of pessimism for now though…’ Sam thought to himself and moved on to the final two destinations.

As he traversed the city streets he made it a habit to stop every few minutes to try and listen for anything, and every time it yielded the same result, utter silence. There weren’t even any pigeons flying around. What he was really listening for though was the infected. They usually liked to stay inside around this time, somewhere nice, warm and damp; the cold wasn’t too good for them as far as Sam knew.

He would like to think that he was simply too efficient in his trap making and spore burning, but the reality often proved far too disappointing.  
Finally reaching the gun store, he entered through the main doors, the air inside the building retained the moldy, cramped and warm flow that filled many of the cities ruined corners. The front was not his aimed destination however, it was the back that had what he wanted. As he leaped across the mostly-intact glass counter, he entered into the back to find the gun pieces right where he had left them.

‘Right, time for some craftsmanship.’ It was a little pet project of his, to try and make a firearm entirely from scratch using nothing but his wits, his experience, the resources he could find, and just the tiniest bit of luck.

From his backpack, he pulled out the half-done pistol. It was a crude design at best; The handle was made from the remains of a park bench he took a plank of and carved up to fit well with his hands. The barrel was more a single small metal pipe connecting with the trigger and firing mechanism to lead the bullet the right way. In addition, the little mechanisms he did manage to procure up until now amounted to scrap metal he managed to bend into screws and a trigger. You could fire it, that was sure, but try and do so and you might not have a hand to attempt it again.

Which is why this small jackhammer and screw were vital to his design. He needed something to be able to ignite and push the mechanisms into motion whilst holding the whole thing together. He was hoping to also find some good polymer or plastic so he could try and make an outer shell for the barrel, a good way to stabilize it a bit and prevent the bullet from just shooting out the side if it ever exploded.

Slowly but surely, he inserted each piece carefully into the firearm, carving and sculpting the body to fit in better and have the whole form give out a much more useful aesthetic, though in reality looks were not his top priority.

Time flied by as the afternoon soon turned to evening and Sam had finally gotten his head off the workbench. He had done it, the hammer and screw were put in place perfectly, and his little pet project was beginning to come into reality more and more every day. Soon he’d have a fully working firearm at the ready for when the going gets tough, he just needed an outer case.

It wasn’t the pure need for a firearm that drove Sam into making this gun. He already had a sidearm of his own that he carried around everywhere he went. A relic of his time back in DC. No, it was the urge for accessibility, the drive for something new. This gun may be crude and a bit unwieldy, but when he was done with it, it would serve better in this world than any military grade rifle.

He got up from his stool and packed everything in his pack. He still had a bit more time before nightfall, and if he hurried, he could be out of the city and back on the road by first light tomorrow. ‘Let’s get that shirt.’ He got out of the back room with a near spring in his step, Sam was feeling good, up-beat, optimistic even.

Not even a second after, his heart nearly froze and instincts took over. He jumped to cover behind the cash register, the only place not made transparent by glass. He heard a voice, footsteps… no, he heard hooves. ‘Riders, you gotta be fuckin-’ before he could even finish his thought, he heard another voice.

“You sure he was heading this way?” a man’s voice, deep and yet unsure sounding.  
“I’m sure.” Another voice, this time it was a girls.  
“Are you? Because the way I’m seeing it we’ve been wandering around the same city block for an hour now.”  
“I’m sure Jesse. Now quit whining, you volunteered for this remember?”  
“I volunteered because Dina probably wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it if I let you go by yourself.”  
“Well I’m glad to know my life, and in turn our friendship, means so much to you.”  
“So you are aware of how stupid this is.”  
“Just shut up and let me focus on the map.”

The two voices became louder and louder the closer they got to the store, Sam stood frozen behind the counter. ‘Heading this way? He? These hunters… No, they don’t sound like the usual batch.’ He stood and thought on the voices. Trying to outrun them would be stupid, and hiding in the buildings if he got spotted would only go so far. His only option would be to sneak past them unnoticed… or to… ‘No, come on. Think… You just gotta think.’ He calmed down to listen in one more time.  
“Cross the street… go left… up right from the flower shop…” the girl mumbled as Sam heard the rustling of some paper. A map, most likely, or maybe just a list of directions.  
“We’re lost.”  
“And then circle back…”  
“We’re lost.”  
“After that…”  
“Yup, lost.”  
“Will you just shut up?! Complaining isn’t going to make us any less lost!”  
“Give me the map, I used to do runs here with Tommy, I know more of the terrain.”  
“Fine!” the girls voice shouted in a defeated tone. “Ass…” she mumbled.

‘Alright, maybe they’re just scavengers; they seem far too relaxed for someone hunting down a human being.’ And yet still Sam’s mind dwelled on the first words he heard ‘…he was heading this way… who did they mean?’ It wasn’t him, at least he thought it wasn’t. He had less than pleasant experiences with Hunters before, and a few of them sent out their fair share of hunting parties after him. ‘But still, this far north?’ he asked himself.

“We wouldn’t have gotten lost if we didn’t make a detour in that stupid store.” The girl’s voice spoke up again and Sam put his ears up to listen.  
“And miss out on this sweet ass shirt? You wish. Now come on, I think I know where we’re supposed to go.”

And with that the two spurred their horses forward, but not before Sam peaked over just out of eyesight to get a look at the two of them.

A girl, it was tough to determine what age since he couldn’t see her face but from the sound of her voice she sounded young. The top of the broken window still of the shop obscured the two’s faces, however, Sam could still make out their body types. The girl seemed to be a bit smaller than the boy, she was skinny as well, though she wore a lot of loose fitting clothes it looked like.

The boy seemed to be a bit older and of a larger build, at least judging from his voice. He wore much less clothes than the girl, who was equipped with a jacket lined with pockets, while the boy was wearing only a long-sleeved shirt. A shirt that seemed… quite familiar… almost the same as…

“Son of a bitch took my shirt…” Sam muttered near-silently under his breath. It was weird to say the least, he hadn’t heard his own voice for what felt like years. However, there were more pressing matters at hand.

On one hand, he could just beeline it back to his camp, sneak away without them ever even noticing. They do not seem to be putting up much of an effort towards searching every building, so it would practically be too easy, and it most definitely would not be the first time. Alternatively, he could try to snatch that shirt from them when they aren’t looking. The boy wearing it might be a tough hurdle to go through but he could manage, they would have to set up camp eventually. The question came up, would he follow them or not?

‘It is a nice shirt…’

He pondered for a moment, and soon the two other survivors vanished from his view. It was time for him to make his decision. Leave or follow.

‘Ah, screw it.’ And so he followed.

Slowly and carefully, he slinked through the concrete maze, trailing them as they navigated through the cityscape. They obviously were ten times as confused as they let on, but the boy seemed to know what he was doing, and so the girl followed, with an unknown little rat right on their tail. ‘Slow and steady wins the race Sammy boy, stay calm.’ He thought to himself. A single wrong step could cost him his life, as it often does in these situations.

It was a short while before the two riders stopped in front of the local museum. It seemed to be their destination, and Sam’s suspicions were quickly confirmed as the two tied their horses to the nearby trees. Meanwhile, Sam stayed hidden underneath the ruined wreck of an old military APC. ‘This is where they were heading?’ he thought, ‘It’s right in the middle of town, they must have passed it about a hundred times.’

He observed from a distance, and watched as the two conversed about something. At this point, they were too far away for him to catch anything. Once they entered the building however, Sam began getting closer. He made an effort to avoid the horses so to not spook them and give away his position. That meant he would have to avoid the main entrance as well.

As he slinked past the horses and onto the side of the museum building, he found the old escape ladder that led up to the rooftop. ‘Could probably look at them from up there.’

It was at perhaps the halfway point of climbing up the ladder that Sam asked himself if this was really worth it. All of this for a damn shirt? Really? ‘Yeah well buzz off, it’s a nice cotton patch. Goes great with the skin and wind.’ He told himself off and continued climbing.

Once on the rooftop he hunkered down and slowly began approaching the glass ceiling. He had to be careful, one wrong move and could most like slip and fall down there.

All caution seemed to have been thrown to the wind once he heard the first gunshot. It was a loud, ringing, ear-bleeding sound. It reminded him why he hated guns so much, and yet, once again, instincts took over. Sam leaped to cover and readied his own gun. It looked like they had found him.

‘Dammit, they must have known! They knew I was tailing them! Is this a trap?’

Another gunshot, and then another, followed by a scream and a grunt. Soon Sam figured what was actually happening. The shots weren’t coming from up top, they were coming from down below. And with it soon came the screams of the infected. Runners, by the sound of them. He slowly made his way to the open rooftop that was once a set of fully encased ceiling windows. From down below he saw his two targets giving it their all to fight back a couple dozen runners all charging at them.

With good precision, they managed to land a few shots, downing the initial few that were closest to them before the boy took out a hatchet, and began fighting them off with that. Meanwhile, the girl stopped using a gun as well, and fought the remaining runners with a pocketknife. Both fought with experience and general agility, evading all of the infected blows while dealing their own to take out as many of them as they can to not be encircled.

But, there were simply too many of them, and soon enough they were on even more on the defensive. While the two did their best, Sam began contemplating. ‘Well… this is one way to get that shirt.’ It would be easy to let them die here and there and come back tomorrow to get their loot. ‘Then again… these fungus fucks are probably gonna tear them apart…’ the girl shoved a blade through one of the runners’ gullet. ‘Limb from limb… they’re not like clickers in that regard...’ a runner charged at the boy, to which he dodged and stuck his weapon into its skull. ‘And once they do die, who’s to say there won’t be spores popping up. Would rather not deal with that whole mess.’

The situation for his targets seemed to be becoming more and direr, and yet they continued fighting them off without a hint of hesitation. He almost thought it admirable to be standing your ground for this long, if it were him in that situation Sam would have ran after the first bullet was shot.

“Jesse!” the girl cried out to her partner, who quickly got entangled in the iron grip of the infected. Had the girl not acted as fast as she did, the runner would have no doubt already planted his teeth into the boy’s throat, or worse.

As their situation worsened Sam’s conscience began to feel sorry for the two. ‘Dammit, come on, just get outta there already.’ He thought. ‘What are you even staying here for? The exit’s right behind you!’ he screamed internally. And yet, they continued pushing forward further into the museum. It was only after he heard the name the girl kept screaming that Sam finally understood what they were doing.

“Joel! JOEL!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, overshadowing even the ear-bleeding screeches and cries of the runners. They weren’t looking for him, that was confirmed at least. They were looking for this Joel guy.

In the end though, there were just too many of them. Eventually, the exit became blocked off from new infected coming in. ‘A nest probably, somewhere down in the basement.’ Clickers liked dark, warm spaces to start planting a nest and start releasing spores, best locations usually are basements and underground areas.

“Up here! Come on!”  
“Wait, what about-“  
“He’s not here, now let’s go!”

They fought their way through another round, but the exhaustion was clear to see, they will die if help doesn’t come.

‘Don’t get involved.’ Sam told himself. ‘You don’t know these people, you don’t care about them.’ Gunshots began ringing again as they traded in their melee weapons for firearms. ‘Just let them go. They are not important. They don’t mean anything to you.’

But they did mean something to somebody. This Joel surely meant a lot to them if they would go through this much trouble just to find him. There was no one Sam could think of he would do this much for, except maybe his father… but he died a long time ago.

‘Yeah… he did die didn’t he?’ it was almost a rhetorical question. He knew full well what became of his father, he was there the day he put that bullet through his skull. ‘Turning into one of those things. It’s a fate worse than death, than the most unimaginable torture, worse than everlasting solitude.’

Solitude, he knew a lot about that as well.

And so, he gripped the rails of the rooftop and focused his efforts. It seemed morality had won him over this time. Reaching into his pack he grabbed a piece of rope tied around a grapple and attached it to the rail, before throwing it down.

“UP HERE!” he shouted, and for the first time in a long while, he could hear himself clearly again.


	2. Chapter 2

“UP HERE!” Sam shouted, throwing down the rope right in-between his former targets and a batch of four runners. They both looked up in confusion, then brushed it off and ran towards the rope.

After taking one infected down with a knife between the eyes she was the first to grab on and start climbing up while the boy held them back as best he could. Climbing ropes was a feat of upper body strength in and of itself, made no easier by the large amount of extra weight in the form of your backpack. The girl’s face showed clear signs of her struggling to climb up, most probably tired after a long fight, but still, her adrenaline kept her going.

Once she managed to latch off the rope and onto the railings, Sam grabbed her by the backpack and pulled her up the rest of the way onto the roof.

“Thanks…” she said through exhausted breaths.  
“Thank me once we get your friend out as well.” He responded.

The two of them then looked down to see the boy still giving it his all. ‘I’ll give ‘em credit, they seem to be pretty good at this. Better than me at least.’

“Jesse!” the girl called out, prompting her partner to start his ascent up the rope. To which he promptly responded by kicking one last infected to the ground and climbing the rope as fast as his arms could make him.

And yet fatigue proved to be quite the bitch, soon he slowed down, being just low enough for one of the infected to grab on to his foot. It wasn’t a runner though, it was a clicker. “God damn it!” the boy cried out, struggling to hold on to the rope as the infected dragged him down. “Get-… off of me…” he lifted his legs up even higher, yet the Clickers gripped stayed strong, the only difference being now that both of them were off the ground.

“The moment that fuckers head gets high enough he’s sinking his teeth into your buddy.” He placed a hand on the girls shoulder to catch her attention. “In other words, he’s fucked if we don’t do something right now.”

The girl took a second and thought. A moment later, she pulled out a gun from her back and took aim. “We’ll shoot him off then.” Before she was able to put her fingers on the trigger however, Sam stopped her.

“How confident are you in your aim?”  
“Confident enough, now let go.”  
“A single wrong sway and he’s dead.”  
“Then I won’t miss, now let go!”  
“You won’t make the shot goddammit!”

She pushed Sam’s hands off of her and looked at him with seething eyes, “Then what do you want me to do, huh?! I won’t just leave him here!”

“For God’s sake will one of you just pull me up? There!” the boy intervened, still struggling against the clicker.

“Oh… right…” she mumbled. The two quickly grabbed on to the rope before Sam stopped her again. “Oh what now!”  
“I’ll pull the rope while you grab onto the grapple, just keep pulling, it’ll be easier this way.”  
“Fine, let’s just get him up here!” she huffed and then gripped the grapple as tight as she could.

Slowly but surely they managed to slowly lift both the boy and the clicker, all the while Jesse swung from the rope left to right and kept kicking the clicker with his other foot whenever it tried to climb onto him. “Persistent bastard!” the boy shouted as he drove another kick into the clickers face, cracking open the fungus shell.

“Almost, just a bit more!” Sam and the girl made one last final push to bring him up to the railings.

As soon as they did, he practically jumped off the rope as Sam managed to catch him by the sleeves of his jacket and pull him up. As soon as the boy made it over the clicker received one last kick to the face before falling back down into the museum.

Sam’s former targets breathed a sigh of relief as both of them nearly collapsed on the floor, huffing and puffing as if they just sprinted across the entire city. “You two okay, any bites, cuts, sprained ankles?” Sam asked.

“Yeah… yeah nah we’re okay…” the boy said through tired breaths. He was lying headfirst into the concrete, but quickly managed to get back up onto his feet and face himself towards Sam. “Hey man, thanks for the save, thought we were-“ he stopped himself, and blinked a few times. “You’re not from Jackson.” He stated bluntly, as if Sam was supposed to know where the hell that even was.

“Correct.” Sam replied, rolling the rope back and quickly putting it in his pack. “And none of us will be anymore if we don’t get the hell outta here in the next minute or so.”

“Oh yeah?” the girl jumped in, finally managing to regain her composure. “And why is that?” she asked smarmily.  
“Stairs.” Sam pointed lazily towards the door entrance towards the rooftop. “A luxury we don’t really have as about 80% of it is filled with spores, but you can bet your ass those runners know how to use them.”

And right on que the doors Sam had pointed too began violently shaking and coming apart as the infected seemed to have figured out where they are. “In hindsight all that yelling probably wasn’t a good idea.” He tried to say as non-chalantly as possible, yet the glare he shot the girl remained fully noticeable. To which she responded with a quite tasteful “Fuck you.”

“Alright, then where to?” The boy asked.  
“Ladders, right behind me, can’t miss ‘em.” Sam pointed towards the path he made a few minutes ago.  
“And what about you?” the girl asked.  
“You two just go, don’t worry I’ll be right behind you. Ladies first and all that.”  
“Right. Come on Jesse.”  
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” The two made a run for the ladder, but not before the Jesse guy turned and called out to Sam. “Hey! Try not to die on us man!”  
“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha, now go!”

The door quickly exploded off its hinges as three infected quickly came running out of the stairway. They looked around the open space of the building, maybe it was just too far for them to notice him yet, but Sam quickly caught their attention with a whistle. “Over here you chucklefucks! Come get your dinner!”

He stood his ground, planted his heels in the concrete and hoped to God that he was able to pull off what he was planning. While he tried to stay as calm as possible, his heart began to race, and sweat began forming on his brow and palms. He began taking deep breaths as the runners came closer and closer to him. ‘Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up…’ the phrase kept ringing in their heads.

As he got just close enough, the runner almost leapt at Sam, going headfirst in an attempt to make both their head collide. This was maybe the best possible thing that could happen. At the very last second he dodged the runner, stepping off to the right and facing towards the empty window still leading down into the museum. ‘Don’t screw it up…’ he cocked his hand back into an open palm, ‘Don’t…’ with as much might as he could muster he lunged forward his open hand and connected with the runners face. At the exact moment of contact the runner went almost flying down into the hole. He didn’t screw it up.

Now for the second and third. Both of which decided to come at him at the same time. The first one lunged at Sam, while the other charged his entire body into him. The two now were on him, wildly flailing their arms around trying to hit or grab onto him. This, however, was exactly what he wanted. He held them both off, keeping them both at half an arm’s length, and with as much might as he had left in him he pushed them both down into the same hole. 

“Done… and done…” he said to himself, barely managing to even get the words out.

Yet now was not the time to rest, as more were on their way, if the screams coming from the now open stairway were anything to go on. ‘Right, that’s enough tough guy action from me.’ Sam thought, and quickly took his backpack off the ground and ran for the ladder.

Once he was off of the roof he had a choice, go back the way he came or make a trek the opposite way and book it towards camp. ‘Those two are probably already long gone; best to break it back to camp while I still got the energy.’ He was about to make a run for it before a familiar voice called out to him from behind.

“Hey! Over here!” it was Jesse, waving towards Sam right beside his little gal pal from their horses. “Come on, we’ve locked the main entrance! Let’s go before they break out!”

‘Well I’ll be damned…’ this day was just chock full of surprises apparently. Sam hesitated for a moment, still thinking of the possibility that they’ll just lead him to a trap. Jackson was never a group he heard of, and he knew a lot of ‘em, it made them unpredictable in a sense because he didn’t know where their morals lied on helping people out of trouble. But now wasn’t the time for doubts, ifs and or buts.

“Grab on.” The girl reached out her hand as Sam ran up to the horses and he happily climbed up behind her. “Let’s go Shimmer, hiya!” and with a kick of their spurs the horses started galloping away from the museum and into the more cramped streets.

As he looked back towards the museum, he was glad the horses trotted as far as they did. The front doors burst open like on the rooftop, except this time it wasn’t a group of runners coming out, it was a bloater. And he was not about to deal with that. The infected let out one last scream before it was gone from all of their sights, and Sam couldn’t be any happier for it.

They rode for a few blocks until they were well away from the town centre and soundly away from any other infected. It was quite the exciting experience if anything, but soon the sounds of the runners, clickers and bloaters faded away, replaced by the sounds of his saviour’s horses. Eventually, they slowed down at the outskirts of town, and all got down from their steeds.

“Well, that certainly was a thing that happened.” Sam said as he jumped off the girl’s horse.  
“Yup, thanks for the save by the way.” Jesse said, doing the same with his own horse.  
“You’re welcome, next time try and stay away from buildings you’re not sure on. You never know what might happen in ‘em.”  
“Ain’t that the truth.” The boy walked up to Sam and reached out his hand. “Name’s Jesse.”  
“John.” He shook his hand, after which he did the same with the girl.  
“Ellie.” She said simply, her tiny pale eyes having a much more hostile tone towards him than her companion.  
“Pleasure.” A silent pressure came between the two of them; it was just the tiniest bit awkward.  
“Hey listen, we came to this town lookin’ for one of our own. Big old bear goes by the name of Joel. Don’t suppose you’ve seen him?” Jesse cut the small silence.  
“Can’t say I have. You two are the only living, breathing people I’ve seen in a good while, least ones who aren’t doped up with funguses.”

While Jesse and Sam talked Ellie tended to her backpack that was tied to her saddle, only turning her attention to the two of them once the mention of Joel came to my mind. “You sure you didn’t see anything? We’ve been looking for him for a few days now, there must have been something you would have found.”

Sam shook his head, “Nah, sorry, I only just got here yesterday, thought I might find some food and scrap here.” Ellie squinted her eyes, but dropped it and went back to fiddling with her stuff near Shimmer.

After she turned her back from them Sam leaned in towards Jesse and began whispering, “Lemme guess; boyfriend?”  
Jesse smirked at that, “Nah, nothing like that.”  
“Brother then?”  
“Nope.”  
“Father?”  
“Yeah… two of them been through hell and back. Would be a shame to lose the old timer if you ask me.” From the way he spoke about him it seemed Jesse had a fondness for ‘the big old bear’, and yet if they were willing to go through this much trouble Sam felt this Joel guy meant the world to Ellie. 

Made him wonder, if his own father disappeared, how far would he had gone to find him. ‘Doesn’t matter now does it? You’re dead old man; I already failed to save you.’ He looked at Ellie, he could see it on her face, she was worried sick, ‘Hope you manage to find him kiddo.’

“Look man, we got an outpost about 20 clicks west of here. If you want you can bunker up with us, nights coming and it can get chilly out in the open. It’s the least we can do after you helped us out back there.”  
“I’m good, got a camp set up some miles up north. Besides, I was thinking of heading inland towards the mountains, sitting out the winter there is usually the best option.”  
“Ah, gotcha, it’s a shame really. We got a community up north, Jackson, its right near-“  
“Jesse!” Ellie interrupted him before he managed to give away any more information.  
“What? He look like a hunter to you?” it looked like this Jesse guy was the sort who wore the truth on his sleeve, and in this world that was dangerous.  
‘At least I know now they were telling the truth.’ Sam thought. “She’s got a point. You never know who you might run into out here. Trust me; I’ve seen all kinds of characters. I appreciate the trust though.”  
“Right. Well, again, thanks for all your help man.” Jesse said as the two got back onto their horses.  
“You two stay safe out there, I hope you find your guy.”

Sam waved at the two and Jesse returned in kind. It was nice to meet some nice folks every now and again. But just before both of them left Sam’s sight, he could hear Jesse say something.

“Ah man, I got a tear on my sleeve.”  
“Oh will you stop complaining. Be happy we’re alive.”  
“What? It’s a nice shirt.”

‘Yeah… it sure is…’ and soon enough the two headed westward, quickly disappearing into the city again. Sam waited a few moments before starting to make his own trek towards his camp. He followed the trails he left himself and headed east towards the forest. Eventually arriving back at his little safe haven.

It was a remote place in the forest, lined with shrubbery and near a cave. It was windy and cold enough to ward off any of the infected from laying sprouts, while being isolated enough from any main roads or paths to keep him safe from other people. In terms of set-up, there was very little, not even a campfire, just some supplies he had packed up near the tree stump and the hollow trunk of a great oak that he used as cover to keep him away from the elements.

He sat down on the stump and placed his backpack down in front of him. ‘Right, let’s see what we got.’

Overall, it was a pretty great haul. He had gotten about two cans of food, which could last him about 4 days depending on how well he rations them, alongside his already found and foraged food he could probably last about 2 months. ‘If I go up north, I probably won’t be able to find any food like this. Berries are pretty nice every now and then but they won’t cut it for a full months’ worth of food. I could always go hunting, make myself a bow and arrow, but don’t know how good I would be with that.’

He took another look at his already gathered supplies from the other days. ‘If I go down south, follow the coastline, I can probably stay away from the snow. Maybe I could scavenge around the cities a bit more, though that would probably mean headin’ up against more of the infected, and maybe even more people.’

He thought about it for a few moments, considering his options and momentarily regretting not taking Jesse up on his offer, Sam thought long and hard on the possibilities of where he would go next. ‘Ah well, guess I can just sleep on it.’

As he was about to get up from the stump however, he froze. A sound, ever so slight. The rustling of leaves from a bush. It wasn’t the sound itself that was the problem though, it was the fact that there was no wind. He darted his head around, looking frantically if he was followed, if someone had found him.

Sam pulled out his gun, an old 9mm he kept back when he was still in DC. He scanned around, not making a single sound and listening intensely. Until, another sound, from the same bush. He aimed his gun as his heart began pounding. The tension became sickeningly thick in the air as Sam held his breath and focused. That was, until, an unlikely outcome came of his paranoia.

It was a squirrel. Funny little thing, brown and bug eyed. Both of them starred at each other for a second, before the little critter scurried off into the trees. Sam couldn’t help but smile, maybe he was being a bit too paranoid.

That is, he would have thought that, had he not heard the hammer of a gun cocking back behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

As he heard the click of the gun, Sam slowly began lifting his arms. “Don’t move.” The voice behind him said, and he followed suit. Still as a stone, he waited and listened, and yet not a sound would come.

“Been a while since anyone snuck up on me like that, gotta give you credit.”  
“Just stay put.” The voice said.

From the sound of it, Sam’s assailant was on the older side, and the gritting of his teeth was either fatigue or injury. “Drop the gun and turn around, slowly now.” Like before, he followed the voices instructions. After slowly planting his gun on the ground, he saw a foot quickly kick it to the side. A thousand thoughts ran through his head as to who it could be; a hunter, another survivor, some crazy murder hobo, the possibilities were endless. Just like the possibilities of this ending badly for him.

Once he turned however, some of his fears were relieved, at least partially. An older man, looking like he was in his fifties or sixties perhaps, and wrapped in about three different layers of clothing, just like Sam. What was the most interesting part of his appearance however, were the scars and wounds currently on him. He was beat up, there was no doubt about it, and Sam hoped all that blood on his clothes wasn’t his. ‘This guy must have had a worse day than me.’

“You bit? Breathed any spores?” the words almost immediately were thrown out of his mouth, to which his gun-pointing friend scuffed.  
“Quite considerate of you, seeing as how most people would be in quite the predicament right about now.” The old man seemed to have a sense of humour at least, or maybe that was the adrenaline in his body wearing off.  
“And I assume that predicament would be getting on my knees and begging you not to shoot me?”  
“What makes you think I won’t just shoot you anyway?”  
“Haven’t done that yet, have you? Besides old timer, it’s not you I’m worried about; it has to deal with about a 180 pound bastard rushing towards me to break me open like a Kit Kat bar.”

That got a smirk out of the old man at least, and it got him to lower the gun for just a second. Sam debated with himself, should he go for it, or should he keep trying to push his luck and hope this guy isn’t insane and just playing with him. ‘He’s in a pretty rough state, I could probably take him. Then again, a single shot landing on me and I’m out. Better to not risk it.’

Up until now the old man seemed to have the eyes of a hawk, not taking them off of Sam for even a second. But luckily, he seems to have calmed down a bit, and the situation was looking less grim. Carefully, Sam began lowering his arms as non-threateningly as he could, all the while observing little square inch of the man in front of him. On closer inspection he looked to be even older than first assumed, but then again a lot of people did in this world. His clothes were damaged almost as much as he seemed to be, but like him they also mainly intact. ‘Only thing that’s worrying me is that blood, guy like him, won’t be able to survive much longer if he’s lost that much.’ And so Sam took his shot.

“I’m assuming that ain’t all your blood, right?” he asked.

Immediately the old man began pointing his gun at him once again, almost as if Sam’s words woke him up or something. In a flash he looked over Sam to see if he was trying to do anything, before tilting his gun and forcing him to raise his arms again.

“Listen man, you’re hurt, that’s plain to see. I just wanna-“ before he could finish the man stepped into the conversation.  
“I’m the one who’s going to be doing the talking. And unless you want me to pull this trigger you’re going to answer my questions. I think you’re lying, I put one in your knee, lie to me again, I put it in your other one.”

‘Dammit.’ Sam thought. ‘He’s caught onto me. Doesn’t matter what I say anymore, he’s the one controlling the conversation now.’ His heart began beating again as Sam became nervous. The old man was not one who seemed to be up for idle chatter, even more so now. ‘Unless…’

“Alright, alright.” He spoke in as soft a tone he could. “Tell you what; how about we do it like this, you ask me a question, I ask you one.” This would be the vital part now. If he played his cards right he could just make it out of this alive.

The man looked at Sam as if he just grew another pair of eyes. There was a silence, and Sam gulped down his fears and grit his teeth for the answer. Eventually, the old man walked a few steps back and sat down on a knocked over log before pointing his gun towards the stump Sam was sitting on. Like with everything else, Sam slowly but surely followed the man’s instructions, scanning for every possible opportunity as a million different approaches ran through his head. Once the two were sat down facing one another the old man lowered his gun.

“You get one, I get one.” He said matter-of-factly.  
“Alright then, you first.” At this point Sam’s voice was almost a whisper, he was sweating bullets.

It didn’t take the old man even a second to think of his question. “Why are you here?” the words echoed as the wind began picking up, scrapping together the fallen leaves off the ground and shaking new ones off the trees.

‘Ok, calm, stay calm. You got this kiddo.’ A lie meant a bullet to the knee that was what he had to remember. “Passing through. I was planning on heading north up the mountains to sit out the winter.” And now was the time to put his money where his mouth is. “I arrived here a bit ago to just scavenge for some supplies, see what I could find.”

“That it?” the old man asked, whilst Sam stayed silent and stared at him dead in the eyes. “You turn deaf all of a sudden. I asked you a question.”  
“That you did, but you already asked one, and I answered.” He leaned in a bit and loosened up, resting his arms on his knees and having the slightest smirk on his face. ‘Don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me…’  
He was silent a moment, before uncocking the hammer of his gun and staring back. “Alright, shoot.”  
‘He messing with me now…’ the wording wasn’t lost on him, but it did wipe the smirk off Sam’s face. ‘Maybe he’s catching on again.’ Still, now was his chance. “You a hunter?” he asked in the most non-chalant way he could.  
“No.” the man answered in an instant before quickly cocking his gun and pointing it at him again. “My turn.”  
‘He sure does love waving that thing around, just wish he didn’t wave it at me.’ Sam thought, before the second question came.  
“Are you a hunter?”

Sam thought long and hard for the answer that the man was looking for. Was he a hunter? As far as he could tell he wasn’t lying, but then again he didn’t have one factor that the person opposite to him had, the gun-factor. Eventually though, he managed to muster up an answer.

“Hunters travel in packs. I look like a pack to you?” Sam said before realizing what he had just done, and so had the old man.  
“No, you don’t. Next question.” He quickly wiped the sweat off his brow, keeping his gun on Sam the entire time, finger on the trigger. “You’re not from around here, I can tell by your accent. Where are you from?”  
“East Coast.” Sam answered quickly. ‘He’s lookin a lot less tense, thank god for that at least.’  
“You’re from DC ain’t ya?” Sam almost answered with a nod, but stopped himself when he remembered the little game they were playing. The old man huffed, letting out the slightest hint of a smile; “You don’t have to answer that one, I’d recognize you folks anywhere.”  
“Ok then.” Sam thought long and hard on what question he could ask to keep himself from dying, until an idea ran through his head. “What’s your name old man?”  
Like with the last two times the man answered as quick as lightning, before Sam could even utter the last word of his question. “John.” He said.  
“What a surprise, seems you and I have the same name.”  
“That so?” he asked, though it seemed he stopped caring about the rules of their little game.  
“That it is, though I do have one more question for you.” The old man nodded before uncocking his gun for the third time now as Sam leaned in once more. “Do the names Ellie and Jesse mean anything to you?”

Whatever good will he managed to gather up with the old man vanished in only an instant. Immediately the gun was being pointed at him again, though perhaps less obvious as he kept it low enough that Sam couldn’t see it if he kept staring at “John” in the eyes. It seemed as if he was about to deny it, but realized he couldn’t keep up that act. That or he was getting too tired to keep this whole thing up.

“So you are a hunter…” he began speaking in a low, menacing voice.  
Sam lifted his arms again, “I’m not a damn hunter. Met up with those two back in town, saved their asses from a group of runners, clickers and a damn bloater. They came all the way here looking for you… Joel.”

And that was the checkmate for him, he had Joel right where he wanted him, at least he thought he did. Now was time to press whatever advantage he could scrape up.

“Listen man, they told me about an outpost they had bit North of town. You ain’t walking all the way there on your own two feet like that bucko, I can tell ya that.” He got up from the stump, slowly and as non-threateningly as possible, and tried his best not to screw this up. “I got some bandaged down there in my bag, I can fix up any scratches on you if you got ‘em and we can head towards that outpost of yours.”

Joel remained silent, simply staring back at Sam and most likely pondering his options. “Or you can shoot me. Take my stuff. See if you can’t reach ‘em before you bleed out, breathe your last breath.” As he lowered his gun, Sam inwardly smirked. ‘Check and mate, got ‘em.’

He slumped his shoulders, and finally put away his gun for good, placing it in the back of his pants. “Go on.” He said in a tired manner, it was obvious the old man was running out of energy, quickly. At the point where Joel nearly fell off the log Sam quickly caught him by the shoulders.

“I’ll get you some bandages for those cuts. You need anything else? Painkillers maybe?” he asked, looking over each part of Joel’s wounds. He mainly had small cuts here and there, nothing too major, but still, it was something a man his age shouldn’t be going through. It was obvious at this point he was running on fumes, even more so than Sam.  
“Bandages… no meds…” he said through fainted breaths.  
“Alright old man, gimme a second.” He quickly rummaged through his things and found his cleanest bandages. And yet, another thought came through his head. ‘The gun…’ he looked at his dropped firearm and pondered if he could make a break for it. ‘One shot, I pack up as quick as I can and run for the hills. What one other group gunning for me at this point.’ And yet, when he saw the old man, he could help but think of Ellie, her face, and how much she was willing to give up to find him.

It wasn’t long though before Joel slumped over and passed out, luckily Sam had already placed him off the log and on the ground, so he didn’t hit his head. Finally, he pulled out the bandages and wrapped them around the most obvious points of injury.

“You’re lucky old man, looks like I’m on quite the moral streak today.” He whispered, more to himself than Joel, but still, it was the thought that counts.

Now he had a choice to make. He could go right now, carry the old man to the outpost and be done with it, leave first light the next day. Alternatively, he could let him rest. Joel wasn’t in any serious condition, he was just tired and a bit injured, and in the state Sam himself was in, he didn’t know if carrying an big man like him for some few kilometres or so was good for his health.

Then, he heard another noise, and quickly shot his head up. A horse.

It had no rider, yet it was wearing a saddle. It approached the two as if it recognized one of them. Sam quickly understood, ‘Must be his, makes sense, two of them had ones as well. Jackson must have a stable or something.’ He thought. Hunters often travelled by car or truck, it was loud and drew attention, which is what they were after, so horses were the next best thing as a means of transportation.

‘Still, it might be better to get you hitched and get this old man a blanket. Nights almost here, and I don’t plan on relying on the moon for travelling.’

And so they waited out the night. Sam at first stood guard, he had hitched the horses bridle next to a nearby tree branch, and gave Joel his jacket to keep him off the cold. ‘You need it more than me.’ He thought. Eventually though, he dozed off, and was only awakened when the Sunshine pierced through the foliage, it was morning.

He looked around, Joel was still there, fast asleep, and the horse remained steadfast alongside him. “You’re a lucky man Joel.” Sam murmured to himself. “Ain’t a lot of people who got both a daughter and a horse to look after them, probably got a wife as well I bet.”, he slowly got the blanket off him and began shaking him awake. “Joel, cmon. It’s time to wake up and go.”

As groggily as a small child he grumbled himself out of sleep before remembering where he was. In an instant he shot up awake, and in an instant he reverted back to that tired and hurt old man again as his wounds most likely reacted to his sudden movements.

“Hey hey, easy now.” Sam said, trying to calm him down. “You were out cold, sorry. Remember me?”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Joel slowly got up and up on his feet with Sam’s help. “I ain’t that old.”  
“Coulda fooled me.” Sam got a glare for that. “Kidding, kidding… Alright let’s go. You wanna take the horse? Don’t know how good you are with walking all this way.”  
“Hop on, you can ride.” He said matter-of-factly as Sam gathered up all his things.  
“Oh no, no, no, no, I am not good with horses, believe me.” He still remembered the one time he tried taming a wild horse he found out in the fields about two years ago, did not end well.  
“Alright then…” Joel climbed up limberly on the saddle, his backpack already strapped on. “… You lead then, I’ll follow.”

Once everything was picked up the two embarked, it was a bit of a trek, all the extra weight he was carrying didn’t help either, he was getting used to not lugging around an extra bag thanks to these past few days, but every habit needs to be broken eventually, lest you become predictable. ‘You taught me that pops, remember?’

Their travel lasted all about 3 hours, it must have been early in the morning when they left camp as when they arrived at the outpost the Sun hadn’t even reached its height yet, so they were on good time. Most of it was spent in silence, save for a few neighs from Joel’s horse. The outpost itself was a somewhat scrappily built watchtower built upon an old news station that was mainly ruined by the process of time. It looked like these Jackson people were set up enough to be able to build watchtowers and outposts.

“John.” Joel called up to Sam who was busy leading the horse by the reins.  
“What’s up?” this was the first time he actually spoke to him in hours.  
“Once we’re close enough, call out to them with ‘Oasis’. It’s our safe word.”  
“Gotcha.” Looks like he was starting to trust him at least.

And just like he was instructed he shouted out “Oasis!” once they were in probable hearing range. He didn’t like shouting, made too much noise, but he hoped the outpost meant that any infected running around were taken care of long ago.

As soon as he shouted out the safe word Sam could hear people scattering around from the inside. They were clearly still asleep. ‘Did we really leave that early?’ Sam asked himself. And yet soon the noises stopped and one of the window shutters opened to reveal a long-haired bearded man pointing a rifle at him.

“Oh for fucks sake…” Sam murmured to himself. He was getting sick of getting guns pointed at him by now. As he turned to Joel to see if he had been set up Sam saw the old man wave his hand to their gun-wielding friend.  
“Eugene! It’s me, don’t worry!” Joel shouted up to the bearded man, to which he could spot the man’s brow visibly being raised before squinting and noticing who he was actually aiming at.  
“Joel?” the bearded man asked with a nearly baffled voice. “Oh shit.” He broke out into a laugh before running away from the window. Soon enough Sam could hear the man’s laughing all the way while he went down the stairs.

The gates to the outpost soon opened up to the picture of what Sam could only describe as his father’s description of “old school biker dude bros”. In front of them stood a man with long flowing hair with a leather outfit decorating his top, alongside a spiked bracelet and a pair of black sunglasses on his head entangled within the strands of his greying, black hair. Were it not for the rattling of his heavily chained jackboots Sam would even call the outfit fashionable, at least by his standards. But this seemed to be a monstrosity alike to those of a bloater.

“Joel you old fuck you’re actually alive!” the man named Eugene walked towards Joel, arms opened up to give him a big old bear hug. Joel’s feet did not even hit the ground before said hug occurred. “Oh you stubborn old bastard, you have no idea how many of us were worried sick cuz of you.”  
“Yeah… good to see you to Eugene.” Joel said through pained breaths before Eugene let go of him so he could actual catch a break from his spine getting broken.  
“And you, you’re…” Eugene took a better look at him, and that was when his smile began to fade. “You’re not from Jackson.” He stated rather bluntly and without the, shall we say, enthusiasm of his former greeting.  
“I’ve been getting that a lot, yeah.” Sam tried to play it off with a smile and a reaching of his hand. “John, nice to meet ya.”  
“Eugene, likewise.” The smile soon returned as Eugene and Sam exchanged a handshake, with Joel already well on his way to leading his horse inside the half-wood, half-stone building. “Come inside kiddo, seems you two have been through the ringer.”

‘Yeah you can say that again.’ Sam wanted to say, but instead just nodded and followed Eugene and Joel inside. It was then when another figure was spotted from inside. A girl, black haired and a bit smaller than Ellie, so he immediately managed to recognize it wasn’t her from the figure, even from a distance.

“Joel?” the girl said in near disbelief, cupping her face to perhaps hide her wide eyed smile. “Oh my goodness! Thank god you’re alive!” she quickly ran down the stairs and came right next to the two older men. “You can’t imagine how much we were all worried for you! Tommy wouldn’t stop talking about you, Ellie was a nervous wreck, don’t even get me started on Esther.” As she continued Joel slowly unwrapped his backpack off of his back whilst nodding to everything she was saying.

“I know Dina, I kno- ow!” he was cut off by the girl punching him in the shoulder, though maybe it was more just a light tap but in the state he was in that may as well have been a hit from a battering ram.  
“Like hell you do! You think I’m giving you an earful? Wait till Ellie sees you like this, it’s gonna be me and Jesse’s heads on a pike afterwards.”  
“Right, right… Um, where is Ellie, is she here?” Joel asked, looking around as he went up the stairs.  
“No, you just missed her. She and Jesse went out to look for you one more time. We were beginning to think you were a goner. Well, me and Jesse were, I doubt Ellie would have ever given up hope for you old man.”  
“You taught her well Joey-boy, that girl’s a killer with that knife of hers.” Eugene stepped in, picking up all the bags Sam and Joel dropped to the ground and carrying them up the stairs.  
“Taught her how to shoot, not stab Eugene. She got that all by herself.” Joel followed Eugene as the girl put herself around his shoulders and slowly guided him up the stairs, leaving Sam alone to his thoughts for a moment.

He felt exhausted, he felt tired, and he felt sick of it honestly. Though deep down, it somehow felt alright. All the pain in his muscles, the heaviness of his eyelids, the cramps forming up around his knees. Every one of those things would have been an annoyance to Sam any other day, but right now he had a bit of an unusual feeling in his gut. Perhaps he was feeling glad he didn’t leave those two to die in town, he would have probably been dead then. Or maybe he was just glad he’s helped some people after so long away from others.

‘Or maybe it’s just my damn stomach… haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning.’


	4. Chapter 4

To call this little outpost of theirs homey would be an understatement. It had practically everything, from a couch, a coffee table, a dartboard, to a fridge, to even a goddamn poker table. The place definitely looked lived in, though perhaps that was a given seeing as how four people were most probably living here for the past few days. Now, it would be six people, or five if either Joel decides to kick the bucket right now or Sam gets a sudden bullet between his eyes.

Eugene and Dina were currently busy leading Joel to the couch to lie down, while Sam followed behind them, always a good few feet apart just as an extra measure. He looked around a bit more to see if he could spot anything else, the place was certainly decorated nice enough, with small red and yellow lights decorating the support beams and a few plants here and there.

Sam stared at the lights for a few moments, it reminded him of something similar back in DC with his father. ‘Christmas lights, that’s what you called them. Right pops?’ he thought to himself. Though his reminiscing was quickly interrupted by a tap on his shoulders.

Turning around he saw Dina standing in front of him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t introduce myself.” She said as she reached out her hand, “I’m Dina, you must be John right?”  
As Sam shook the girl’s hand, he nodded in confirmation, “Pleasure. Good to see I’m already such a big name around here.” That got a smile out of her; he always liked making people smile or laugh, even if it was just a dumb joke.  
“Jesse and Ellie told me lots about you. Thanks for saving their hides yesterday.” The way she talked reminded him of Jesse, and after a bit of Ellie and an entire conversation with Joel that truly was the Christmas present he wanted.  
“A bit of common decency never hurt anybody, right? Besides, if that’s what it takes to meet you then it’s my pleasure.” He winked and the two finally let go of their handshake. ‘Smooth hotshot, real smooth…’  
Unlike most girls he tried to pull that on however, which was about 3 of them, she didn’t wince. She simply kept smiling with brows raised, “Charming, aren’t you?”  
“I do my best.” Sam said, trying his best to keep himself from smiling like an utter buffoon.

The next few hours passed almost in a flash and yet somehow felt like an eternity. The more time he spent inside the outpost, the more the air became thick with a tense anticipation. They were playing the waiting game, waiting for Ellie and Jesse to come back unscathed, or alive to be honest. Sam mainly kept his distance from the three others, looking around where he could and doing his best not to touch anything. Eventually he just went back downstairs and sat down on the floor near his stuff, looking through it just to make sure everything was still there.

He looked out the window and into the sky, the sun still wasn’t fully setting, but it was well past noon to be sure. ‘I could have been halfway out the state by this point.’ He thought to himself as he sat down in the corner again. The floor was pure hardwood, not the most comfortable to sit on but his jacket proved to be well enough of a cushion. Slowly but surely he began to doze however, his eyes became heavy and for the first time he realized just how much he missed having a roof over his head. If only he didn’t have the other people under said roof to worry about, he could probably sleep like a baby, once he barricaded himself an equivalent to Fort Empire.

‘Fort Fuckin’ Empire. God damn was that a long time ago.’ He could still remember the faces of the people he knew there, the hope he had that he could find himself a home worth living in. It was as false a hope as you can get. Everything falls, eventually.

Sam’s consciousness continued to slip, and with it images of said faces began popping up again. Old father John, Little Milly, Olson, Mike, Terry, Jessica. All their faces were right there and yet he could barely recognize any of them, the fort felt almost like a lifetime ago. How long had it been? Four Years? Five? It doesn’t really matter, they were on the other side of the country, and Sam abandoned them of his own volition. What choice did he have, really? It was either that or have them kick him out themselves.

He was about a few seconds away from falling asleep when he heard someone coming down the stairs. “Yo, you still down there kid?” it was Eugene, still rocking his biker outfit, if that even was the correct term.

“Over here.” He drowsily stood up from his little corner and rubber his eyes.  
“Why’d you run off?” he asked, and it felt as if an ice pick just got shot into the back of his skull.  
“What?” he asked, looking at him with eyes wide open and a renewed sense of paranoia.  
“I’m making dinner upstairs, why don’t you join us?” he pointed back to the warm lights of the upstairs rooms.  
“Oh… um, okay. Yeah, sure, I’ll be there. Just gimme a sec I gotta take something from my sack.”  
“No rush kiddo, we’re still waiting on those two knuckleheads and dinner ain’t gonna be ready any time soon, take your time.”

‘That was close too close.’ He didn’t look like anyone from Fort Empire, or any other place he visited. ‘Maybe I am just getting to paranoid, not everyone’s a piece of shit, right pops?’ it’s a comforting thought, to believe in your fellow man, if only it paid off.

He rummaged through his backpack a bit and pulled out a piece of paper and some black and white chalk, or as normal people called it, charcoal and a rock dipped in four year old white paint. And with his tools he came back up to the rest of his rag-tag group of companions. It was a strange sight, to see other people around him for so long, to have a roof over his head with lights on. He could hear the food sizzling as the scent began filling his nostrils. When was the last time he ate cooked food?

Well now wasn’t the time to become a dog and start sniffing around, so he let go of the aroma, sat down near a coffee table, and began scratching down.

After a few minutes, he managed to cover the entire sheet with black chalk. He’d grown pretty used to using the coal in a way that would tear up the paper. Next came the white part of it. Unlike the chalk however, he carefully rubbed the outer black layer on the outlines, forming a white frame around the black canvas. Whilst he was busy with his other little pet project Sam heard Joel shuffle around on the couch he was strewn about on, all the while Eugene and Dina could be heard conversing in the kitchen.

Once he got a rough sketch of the main frame of the gun, he started carving more precise pieces. It was a schematic, a blueprint more like. Every two or so weeks he would make a new one, update his designs as he continued to work on his little custom gun.

Deep in his thoughts, Sam started to become more and more focused on the paper in front of him. The sounds and noises around him becoming progressively more distant, until it was just him and his little drawing. He always wondered if any of these blueprints actually helped him in his work. In the end, he always came to the conclusion of ‘Eh, I dunno…’ and left it at that. It was a good way to pass the time when he had nothing better to do, and if he could justify it to himself that he’s actually working then even better.

“Whatcha doin’?” a voice suddenly snapped him out of his ponderings, Dina.  
“Oh, I just… Just doing some stuff.” He mumbled out an answer as soon as he could, he wasn’t expecting to be caught off guard this quickly.  
“What stuff?” he was used to being questioned a lot, and unusually he could make up an answer pretty quickly, so why was it that he was stumbling over his tongue so much.  
“Ah y’know, just some things I cook up to pass the time. Usually I don’t have a table or a chair to do it so I got a bit into it.”  
“Well it looks pretty cool.” She looked over the drawing, to be honest he wasn’t used to getting praised for the things he did, mainly because there was no one there to even comment. “You draw often?” she asked.

“Well it’s not really drawing, more like…” he stopped for a moment to think of the name he heard it referred as, then he remembered that he never actually heard of how it’s called. “Think of it more as, like, painting lets say.” He picked up the black chalk and did a soft stroke across the empty space he did not draw anything in yet. “You use a bit of black and white, use the contrast to make yourself a shape, an object, a location, a map, anything you need really.” After applying the charcoal, he let go and reached for the white chalk. “You use the bit that are rubbed off onto the paper, let it dry on the sun for a fortnight, and then boom, you got yourself a painting.”

All the while Dina nodded to Sam’s explanation, looking meticulously at his movements and technique, before shooting her head up. “What’s a fortnight?” she asked.  
“No clue. That’s just what my pops told me when he did it. I just let it dry for about two to four hours and its enough so I guess that’s it.”  
“Huh. Makes sense I guess.” She nodded along.

“Two weeks.” A voice came from behind them. It looked like the old man wasn’t knocked out cold after all. “Fortnight means two weeks.” He sluggishly got up from the couch and rubbed his eyes, all the while making sure not to make any sudden movements.  
“Welcome back to the world of the living old timer.” He was once again caught off guard but managed to catch himself this time without looking like an idiot.  
“Morning Joel.” Dina said happily, it was strange how cheery she managed to sound all of the time.  
“It mornin’ already?” the old man asked genuinely, it seemed he needed some sleep far more than he let on yesterday.  
“Close enough, me and Eugene are makin’ dinner.”  
“And Ellie?” Joel finally stopped rubbing his eyes and leaned back on the couch.  
“Still not back, Jessie neither.” She added, her tone giving out a hint of annoyance.

To Dina’s words Joel slumped over and sighed. “Alright…” he murmured. A sad silence suddenly overtook the room, and both Sam and Dina looked at one another to see who would try and cheer him up first. The old bear it seemed was in a bit of a slump, and it sure as hell wasn’t just because of being a little bruised. The only noises coming in at that point was the cracking and sizzling from the kitchen, and the chirping of both birds and bugs from outside.

“Dina! Come here a sec and help me out!” Eugene called out suddenly, breaking the silence.  
“Coming! Alright, I’ll be right back.” She scattered away to the kitchen, but not before flicking a look at Sam to nudge him over to Joel.

This time it was Sam who sighed, though a lot less noticeably than Joel, at least he hoped not. ‘Alright, come on Sammy boy, you can do this. You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ he hyped himself up. A bit of sappiness here and there never killed nobody. At least he hoped it didn’t.

“Hey, listen Joel, ok. It’s gonna be alright.” He started, barely managing to get the words out.  
Joel turned his head from the window facing right in front of him on the other side of the room. “Hell you talkin’ about?” he sounded almost annoyed, were it not for the fatigue absolutely latent in his voice Sam would have even gotten a bit offended.  
“Look, I know you’re worried but there’s no reason to be. Ok? I’ve seen those two in action. They’re a bit hot-headed here and there but overall they got good heads on their shoulder, and a nice right-hook to go with it.” For the second time now Sam managed to get a smile out of the old timer, for the smallest second even, it looked like he was about to laugh.  
“Oh you don’t know that girl. If she had the will or want for it, she’d storm the gates of Hell head on and not even flinch.”  
“I assume she took that from her pops then. At least if those bruises are anything to go by.”  
“Yeah… guess so.” Where he thought he could bring out at least a smile came only a frown and yet another sigh from the old man. He could understand it somewhat now in hindsight, it was one thing for the parent to take the risks, it was another for their kid to do the same.

Just as another bout of silence was about to take hold a shrieking whistle came from the kitchen before Dina practically leaped out of the kitchen and ran towards the stairs. “They’re back!” she said in a flash before disappearing like a blur down to the lower floor.

The following reunion was almost like in all the stories he read back in the day, at least that’s how he interpreted it. Ellie and Joel, father and daughter. It looked like the two of them hadn’t seen each other in years, at least that’s how they reacted. It was awkward at first, they stared at one another in silence, uttering not even a word for a solid minute. Whatever tension that managed to build up however was dashed the moment Joel and Ellie embraced, and everyone breathed a collective mental sigh of relief.

The following hours was something Sam had not experienced in what felt like a lifetime ago. Warm food, surrounded by friendly faces, a room practically fuming with a hospitable air it almost felt oppressive. All these things made Sam feel even worse for having to leave. And yet what could he do? He wasn’t going to join them back to Jackson, that was for sure, and the outpost definitely wouldn’t be a good habitat to stay in for more than a few weeks.

He sat back in his corner, away from everyone else, away from the welcoming lights, warm food, and friendly faces. ‘The sooner we both forget about each other the better.’ He had his doubts at first, though with time this Jackson bunch proved to be a good group. In the end though, getting out at first light was probably the best thing for both of them.

Just when he was about to fully lose consciousness and fall asleep, a noise woke him right back up. Rather, a voice.

“Ey, you still down there?” It was Jesse, for a moment Sam couldn’t even recognize his voice, but it all came back in a flash.  
“Yeah, yeah. Over here.” He made sure not to raise his voice too much, everyone upstairs was probably asleep by now.

Jesse slowly made his way over to Sam’s, taking care not to fall or trip on anything in his way. Thankfully, the moon was out this night, so there wasn’t complete darkness, and what little windows there were provided enough illumination so that Sam could see Jesse clearly enough. It was this time that Sam actually took the effort to take a closer look at Jesse’s face. The last few days passed like a blur, and much of Sam’s memories carried a similar vignette. 

Upon closer inspection he managed to notice a few things. The two were around the same age, like Ellie and Dina, so they all share that at least, though Sam himself never really knew how old he actually was. Their hair was also similar, both had blackish colours to them and were mainly unkempt and long, though Sam’s was a bit shorter. Whereas his hair was fully loose two days ago it was wrapped around in a ponytail now, seems even he realized how much of a hindrance it was to have it going around left, right, up and down all the time. ‘It’s not that we don’t got the means, the real problems just finding the effort to cut it.’

He sat down a bit opposite to Sam and crossed his legs, “Thought you would have already ran off.” He said non-chalantly.  
“Heh…” he managed to let out a slight chuckle. “Without even a kiss goodbye from my new compatriots? What kinda man you think I am?” it was Jesse this time who chuckled, good to know he had a sense of humour at least.

Come to think of it, all of them seemed pretty well adjusted and kind-hearted, save for Ellie perhaps, though Sam chalked that up to pure worry. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was nice being able to joke around and finally talk with someone, with the added bonus of not having to worry if they’ll blow your head off given the chance. ‘Careful now Sammy boy, you never know when all those smiles and jokes turn into a mugging and a bullet between your eyes.’ That ever present voice of paranoia said to him. Or was it perhaps the voice of reason?

He’d seen it all. He really had. And through it all Sam always relied on his instincts, his wit, his gut, to get through it all. When his pops died, did he sit around moping, crying his eyes out until FEDRA came for him? No, he ran. When times got rough in Fort Empire did he lie on his ass waiting to die like all the others, no, he got out, saving everyone the pain of it all. It was him against the world, and the world didn’t like pulling punches, so neither was he. ‘It won’t be the shrooms that get me, it ain’t gonna be the slavers, bandits or hunters, it most certainly ain’t gonna be FEDRA either. I’ll survive, I’ve managed to do it so far haven’t I?’

“So…” Jesse broke the unintentional silence, and Sam quickly darted his eyes to meet him once more. “We’ll be heading out tomorrow first light, or at least once Joel’s good enough to start traveling.”  
“Joel.” Sam’s thoughts hovered back to the image of the old man holding a gun to him, not the best first introductions, but it at least reassured Sam that Jackson people don’t shoot on sight. “He’s definitely not in his prime anymore, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t got any fight left in him. Give him this night and he’ll be good to ride.”  
“I’ll trust your expertise then.” Jesse smiled, it was clear the two shared his testament about ‘the old bear’. “Still, once we’re back in Jackson I’ll have the doc take a look at him, make sure he’s not got anything serious. I can’t tell you how many times he’s hounded me about my patrols with Ellie, think it’s time he gets a taste of his own medicine.”  
“Ah give him a break. You know how dads are. Once ya get in with their kid they won’t let you breath without their go ahead, trust me, I know.”  
“Ain’t that the truth.”

The two shared another moment of silence as an owl started hooting outside. The wind was noticeably absent throughout the day, something Sam took note of. Mother nature must have taken a page out of his diary then because the wind began picking up more and more as time went on, drowning out any sounds of the wildlife.

“Listen, Jesse.” It was Sam this time that broke the silence, tapping Jesse on the knee. “I know you said you’d all be going at first light but uh… Listen, I’ll be heading out around first light as well.” His words made the boy’s eyes widen a bit.  
“You’re not coming with us?” his tone was one of disbelief more than disappointment, much different than the one he heard two days ago. Or was it three? He couldn’t keep track.  
“Don’t get me wrong, ok, you guys are good people, and I’m glad I met you.” He interrupted him before he could get another word out, it was better to not make this any less difficult than it was last time. “I’m glad you guys found Joel, and frankly, if this Jackson’s any bit as good as this little castle you’ve made for yourselves then I’m even happier.”  
“Then why don’t you come with us man? We got food, we got room, and I don’t think anyone here nor there would say otherwise to having someone like you there.” This time Jesse was the one interrupting, he seemed adamant to convincing Sam and, admittedly, he appreciated the care.  
“You don’t know that. Besides, I’ll be honest with you Jesse, settling down’s never been one of my strong suits. Livin’ by yourself for so long, you get used to not getting attached to places.” He kept up the charade of indifference, ‘If only I could say the same for people.’ The more he tried to convince himself the harder it proved to him how heavy this little act of his really was.  
“Ok, listen, hear me out though.” Sam reluctantly nodded, his promise of not backing down becoming more and more crumbled by the second. “Trust me, if anyone has any problems with you staying with us, I’ll tell Tommy and Maria to send them right to me. Those two have been running Jackson longer than I can even remember. Besides, if it weren’t for you I don’t know if we would have even found Joel. Trust me, we got your back, more importantly, Tommy’s gonna have your back.”

Tommy, he learned at the dinner table that he was Joel’s brother, and co-founder of Jackson alongside his wife. Saving the leader of a settlement’s family certainly would carry a lot of favour, Sam could be sure of that, but it was more the matter of how much that favour was worth. He looked at Jesse’s eyes, tinged with nervousness and hope. ‘You don’t know me. I could be one of those fucks, I could sell you all out, I could kill you all in your sleep the moment you close your eyes.’ And yet, here he was, ready to take on the burden of another person in their safe haven. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

“I get it.” Jesse snapped him out of his thoughts once more. “When I first came to Jackson, I was still a kid. My parents, we… we were wanderers for a long ass time. My first ever memory was me walking alongside the highway with my mom and dad. But when we found Jackson, when we met with Tommy and Maria, my parents were as sceptical as you are now.” He put a palm to his chest and smiled. “But look at me now, I’m alive. I’m with a girl that I love, I got friends I’d risk my neck for any day, and I’m sittin’ here willing to give you the same chance Jackson gave me and my family.”

Sam sat there, dumbfounded and confused. ‘You found paradise, and you’re willing to risk it all for some rat you found on the side of the road. You really are an idiot Jesse.’ And yet, how could he refuse, he pulled out this whole dumbass speech for him and after all that he was supposed to just turn his head and say no?

“Alright look…” he leaned in and rested his arms on his bundled up legs. “I got some things in my pack here, trinkets and baubles here and there I managed to snag. I’ll go with you guys, we’ll travel together back to this mystical holy land you call Jackson. I got time, winter ain’t coming around for a while at least so I can spend a few days there and see if I can’t trade anything with anyone’s whose interested. Now I can’t promise anything after that, but I think it’s better than us parting ways in the morning, right?”

Jesse smiled, all the fear slipping away from his eyes in an instant. As the wind outside calmed down, Sam could hear the voices of nature slowly coming back as well. Crickets, owls and birds, all with their little hoots and cracks filling up his eardrums. Yet, the only thing he was focusing on was his pony-tailed friend slowly rising from his spot. “Ok. I’ll see you in the morning then, John. G’night.”

“Sleep well, Jesse.”

It didn’t take much did it? Just the uttering of that one little lie was enough to bring Sam back to reality. ‘Everything falls, eventually. But that doesn’t mean it can’t last a while at least. Don’t worry pops, I’ll be out of their hairs before they know it.’


	5. Chapter 5

They all rode as a posse. Eugene lead the front, guiding the rest as he seemed to know the path back better than the rest of them, even Joel. Dina and Jesse rode side by side, with Ellie and Joel right behind them. They set out at first light as promised, with Joel being the one who woke the group up, already packed and ready to head out.

All in all, it seemed the group was in high spirits. They were cheerful, talkative, with nigh a care in the world. Sam would be remise if he didn’t admit to himself how much this sort of environment was beginning to grow on him. He would also be remise if he didn’t know about the eventuality of his departure from his little new cadre of companions. They were a good bunch, that much he had already confirmed at this point, however, he already met about a few dozen or so of ‘good bunches’. Every one of their stories would end the same, Sam leaving and never seeing them again.

He tried not to dwell on it too much, if he did, then the depression would probably start setting in again. Once it started to hit him again, he would lose the will to keep going, and when you can’t keep walking forward then whatever’s behind you will surely latch on, and pull you back. ‘You just keep moving, no matter what, that’s the key.’ He thought.

They rode for a good few hours when the forests started opening up more and more. While the five of his new friends all had their own horses, Sam did not. When the observation was first made, he was ready to offer just walking on foot, before realizing that would slow their journey down immensely. So in turn he was going to ride with someone for the journey, yet the most surprising thing about the entire situation was who he was riding with. It was Ellie who offered Sam a ride first, which came as the biggest twist he experienced in the last few days. While the riding would no doubt prove a lot faster than walking, it still bugged him they were going to be using the horses for traveling.

Animals were never Sam’s favourite traveling companions, dogs and cats were good for a pet or two on the side of the road but in the end they only ate up your food or would bite you. Other animals simply served as food and furs; rabbits, deer, wolves, bears and so on, he was pretty sure he hunted each of them at least once. Horses were another thing entirely though, he didn’t know exactly what it was but they just unnerved him.

“So what is it? You got like… what, a phobia or something?” Ellie said, mimicking a disinterested tone. He was glad the girl at least attempted to make some form of small talk.  
“No, I don’t really think it’s that. It’s more something you can’t describe. Something that when you look at ‘em it makes you nervous right off the bat.”  
“So a phobia.” Joel jumped into the conversation, riding alongside the two of them.  
“Look here buster if you’re gonna start using your fancy schmancy old world lingo on me you could at least explain to me what the hell a phobia even is.” He always felt a bit ashamed whenever he couldn’t understand what older people were talking about. So what’s the best way to cope with that shame? Make the person saying it feel guilty of course.  
“An irrational fear of something. You know what irrational means kid?” the more he healed up his wounds the more snippy the old bear seemed to get, though the tone of it all was a bit different when you aren’t having a gun pointed at you.  
“Ah come on, I might not be prehistoric like you but I’m not a simpleton.” He lied as easily as he breathed and hoped to whatever God there was Joel didn’t press further on the matter.  
“I don’t.” Ellie said, and Sam breathed an internal sigh of relief. “What does it mean?”  
“Hmph.” Joel huffed and let out a smile through his husky greyed beard. “Don’t know each other even a few days and you’re already bailin’ him out? Don’t surprise me, you kids are all the same when you’re all bunched up.”  
“Yup, you know us kids, running around with our telepathy and shapeshifting.” She pointed a finger at her temple to emphasize her words. While both her expression and voice remained the same as always, it was perhaps the first time Sam saw the girl attempt any form of interaction besides aloof staring. “So anyways, back to your phobia of horses.”  
“It ain’t a phobia dammit.”  
“Sounds like a phobia to me. Besides boy, how come you know you ain’t got a phobia if you didn’t even know what the word meant a few seconds ago?”  
“Logic, that’s how. If being irrationally scared of something is what I think it means then I wouldn’t even be on this damn demon dog-donkey hybrid and even if I were I’d probably shaking harder than a Norwegian Parrot.” He raised his hand for full dramatic effect to show how not irrationally scared he was, when the thought occurred to him. ‘I’m getting really defensive about this, aren’t I?’

Silence befell the three as the only sound that replaced Sam’s heated words were the hooves of their horses and the neighing of Shimmer. For a second he even thought he had won the argument, despite Joel’s smug smirk and Ellie’s indifferent yet still somewhat mocking smile.

“Sounds a lot like what someone with Equinophobia would say.” She chimed in one last time.  
“What in the Sam-hell is Equinowhatever and why does it sound like an ear infection?” it turned out the girl he saved back in the city turned out to be a bigger smart mouth than he thought, and a walking dictionary apparently.

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock on the wall slowly went about its everlasting routine of slowly counting down the day’s hours. He always hated that clock, every time he was called into the governor’s office it would be sitting there, waiting for him, letting out those unbearable noises. If there was anything in the world Lucas hated the most it was pure silence, and the clock only served to emphasize the lack of noise that reverberated throughout the governor’s office.

“GOD DAMN YOU SPECHER!” unfortunately for him, the office was anything but. “HOW MANY TIMES ARE YOU GONNA TRY AND PULL THIS STUNT?”  
“I got the town didn’t I?!” he wasn’t about to start taking shit for a job well done, not even from the governor.  
“THEY COULD HAVE SHOT YOU! YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? YOU COULD HAVE DIED, OR WORSE, WHAT IF THEY JUST DIDN’T LET YOU LEAVE, THEN WHAT?!”  
“But they didn’t! Now, we got another settlement down and another resource zone to let us grow. Look, I even got them to sign the papers.” He slapped the documents down on the table, all stamped and signed by the leaders of Carouh. “Besides, that’s why you gave me and my boys the guns and APC, so we didn’t have to worry about any hotshots and wiseguys ambushing us on the side of the road.”  
“That’s not the issue you absolute mongoloid!” the old man’s veins almost popped as his fist slammed against the table, making the entirety of Lucas’ finely placed papers fly to the wind. “What would have happened if they weren’t interested in talking? What if they just shot you right off the bat and burned the APC down before your boys could get out of there?”  
“Then another schmuck would take my place and you’d have this argument with him, except he probably wouldn’t have the balls to tell you to your face how full of shit you are MaCanonn! Next time-“  
The governor slammed against the table once more and rose from his chair, his fuming skin slowly fading away. “Don’t even start with me.” His thundering roar of a voice now only letting out furious whispers. “If it wasn’t for me, you would be a shitheel on the side of the Golden Gate wasting away until they conscripted you. So don’t even try to make this about something it isn’t.” the governors words hit like a stake through the heart, mainly because of how much it hit home. MaCanonn was like a father to him, ever since he came to San Francisco.

A silence befell the room as the governor slumped back in his chair, adjusting his glasses. Neither of them talked for a solid 10 seconds before the governor let out a rambunctious sigh. “Listen to me Luke.” he took off his glasses and placed them on the table before letting out another deep sigh. “Just… at least tell us, next time. That’s all I’m asking, ok?”

He nodded, these types of spats were common between the two of them, and they ended sooner than they started more often than not. “Yeah. Yeah, I will Rody. Promise.”  
“Good. Now get the hell outta my office before I smack you on the back of your thick skull.”

As the doors closed, Lucas breathed a sigh of relief, another settlement down, another million more shout outs with MaCanonn to go. Still, if it got them closer to reforming the US then it will all be worth it. ‘It’ll be easier once we pick up momentum, people will start hearing stories. Eventually, they’ll be the ones begging to be a part of us.’ He thought, rubbing his brows.

The halls of the city council building were all long, winding, and arduous to get around, perhaps built by design. Maybe it was supposed to add to the mystique or feng-shui of the building or add to the symbolism of it being this illustrious monument of the old world, giving some form of comfort. The only thing that it gave Lucas was a headache, especially after every meeting.

Still, after some careful coordination he managed to arrive at the main entrance that also served as the buildings largest exit.

Jenny was busy organizing the governor’s schedule when she managed to spot him. “There he is, the big man himself.” She greeted.  
“Busy with the papers?” he asked.  
“Not as busy as you were yesterday I assume. Heard the chief’s pretty flippant with you.”  
“Ah you know him, someone so much as opens the window without him knowing he starts fuming.” The governor and Luke knew each other for a good decade and a half at this point. If their conversations were anything to go by however, you would think their relationship was that of an old married couple or a pair of co-workers who hated each other’s guts.  
“Yeah well for once I’m with the big man.”  
“Oh come on Jenny don’t you start.” He went over to the water dispenser, grabbed a plastic cup and started pouring.  
“Don’t you ‘don’t you start’ with me mister. What if-“  
“I got shot? Killed? Maimed? Wounded? Captured? Yeah, I know Jenny, I’ve heard it from everyone and their mother at this point, but the important thing is that I wasn’t and everyone came back safe. And sorry to tell you but it looks like you’re gonna be havin’ another set of documents worth checking.”  
“What a joy…” she could have not sounded more dejected.

Jenny was a sweet girl, a bit young to be a secretary, or at least any that Lucas knew, before or after the world went to shit. Though in the end being the governor’s daughter did have its benefits, mainly being that you were free from doing a lot of manual labour jobs. He took a sip from his cup of water and enjoyed the sweet taste of victory that came with the liquid dripping down his throat.

This would be the fourth settlement this month that Lucas successfully convinced into joining the NAFC, and more would be on their way. Just a week ago they had a group of survivors coming into the city and talking about how they heard the rumours of their system. ‘I’ll have to go and talk to a few of them when I get the time.’ He thought to himself as he leaned back on the dispenser. Taking out his little black book from his suit pocket Lucas observed the pages that were crossed out and the ones still left, more importantly the names.

‘I can probably start reaching out a bit more south on the Mexican border, could ask Rody to lend me a bird and travel that way, cross the gulf much faster.’ He flipped a few pages, leaving checkmarks on the ones he already finished up. ‘What about… up north.’ With another flick he came to some few names, some of them had an “x” on them, which meant denied, others a simple “–“, which meant hostile or abandoned. There was one settlement however that was on the page with neither. ‘Jackson…’

Just then, however, the doors to the city hall burst open and Mike Racianno walked in, his suit glimmering off the sun’s rays and his finely combed greyed hair and moustache almost reflecting from the light outside. “The Lion of SanFran returns with another victory!”

“Mikey, good to see ya!” to call one of Mike’s hugs that of a bear would be an understatement, he was a 250 pound blob of pure Italian muscle, and his upper body strength was probably second to none. ‘Why Rody decided it would be a good idea to have a former wrestler as his secretary of defence is beyond me.’  
“You little hooligan, c’mere!” he wrapped his arms around Lucas and as if he was lifting a twig got him off the ground without even a beat of sweat. “I’m tellin’ ya Luke, when we first heard about you goin’ out to Carouh, the governor was steaming, and I mean steaming I tell ya.  
“Yeah, I heard, saw, and witnessed.” It was always a good time with Mike, even if some of the things he did were a bit… extravagant to say the least.  
“Poor kid, you know I envy you sometimes. The governor’s own kid and he still busts ya balls whenever you try and do something good for the people.” That got Jenny’s attention almost certainly, he knew she never liked it when he was referred to as ‘the governor’s kid’. “Anyways, whaduya say you, me and the boys go out and have a round in the town? To celebrate your success and another glorious addition to our new federation!”  
“Sounds good, gimme just a sec though, I gotta go and grab something and I’ll be right over.”  
“Sure kid, I’ll wait for you in the car.” He turned to leave out of the building but just as he was at the foot of the door he turned, “Oh, ey Jenny, you wanna join us? Never know, could meet yourself some hot stud of a boyfriend while out on the town.”  
“I’ll pass Michael. Unlike you, some of us have work to do and can’t afford to get shitface drunk every day.” Though anyone else would have most likely gotten offended at the snide remark Mike merely laughed, shrugged and turned back to Lucas.  
“Women, am I right? Can’t offer ‘em a damn thing without them bustin’ your balls. I see where your daddy gets it from.” And with that he exited as extravagantly as he left.

‘One of these days Mike, that mouth of yours is gonna give you nothing more than a bullet between the eyes.’ Lucas thought, it was a bit grim to be honest, but it was more than likely the truth. His thoughts, however, were quickly snapped away by Jenny’s words.

“if I ever become governor, first thing I do when I set foot in office is going to be kicking that asshole out of the city council and into the streets with all the other garbage.”  
“He’s a good guy Jenny. Sure, he’s a bit rough around the edges but has he ever done anything bad to you or your pops?” He made it a point to emphasize the ‘your’ part, Lucas was fully aware of the bordering contempt she had for his relationship with Rody, it was only a shame she never voiced her opinion about it fully so that the two could have an actual conversation about it. If there was one thing Lucas was good at, it was talking.

She grimaced, and looked away, going back to filing all the paperwork on her desk. There was no point in pushing the matter any further, it was clear she wasn’t in any mood for that kind of talk. Somewhere back in the distant halls of the governor’s office, Lucas swore he could still hear the clicking of the damn clock, and so he rushed to get his coat of the hanger and said goodbye to Jenny.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, give you the next round of papers.” And with that he was off for a night on the town. Because in the end, what’s the point of hard work if you can’t reward yourself every now and again for a job well done?

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

Sam had to fight the urge not to duck down and let the grass graze his hand as they trotted along the golden field. Compared to the rest of their journey the last hour or so had featured nothing but pure open land and views, letting Sam truly sink in how much of a world there’s still left to explore. And to put in mind how large Jackson actually was.

Off in the horizon, he saw this apparent paradise of a settlement, Jackson. And he could not believe his eyes.

A massive town, sprawling with lights, accentuated even more by the falling sun over the horizon and the red sky overhead. It must house at least 2 thousand people from the looks of it. ‘Last time I thought of those numbers was in DC’ he thought to himself.

“So, this is Jackson huh?” he could barely make out his voice from neighing and trotting of their horses hooves, Shimmer was a lively one, that was for sure.  
“Well, it’s actually not the name of it. We here call it that but in reality its after Jackson County, the place we’re in right now. We didn’t pass by any but we actually got a few more smaller settlements up and around the mountains, down by the dam in the south, and a few more east in the forests.” Jessie explained. He led his horse from the left of Ellie and Sam and keeping watch to stay the same pace as them. Meanwhile, Ellie’s gaze was kept purely forward, the girl was no doubt thrilled to be back home after the ordeal all of them went through.

‘Home. You can’t live without it huh?’ though his words were uttered from the inside, he didn’t dare actually say them, and yet he continued. ‘The warmth and comfort of a bed you know is yours outweighs even the ecstatic of pleasures.’

“Trust me John.” Jessie snapped him out of his non-existent conversation. “I think you’re really gonna like it here.”  
“We’ll see about that, remember, I only intend on staying a few days. Don’t expect me to start pallin’ around with the entire town.”  
“Sure man, ‘course. No pressure.”

Once they were at the gates Eugene and Joel took centre stage. “We’re back, open up!” Eugene shouted, and by sesame it did open. The inside was perhaps even more impressive than looking at it all from afar. Every single building, every dirt road, every fence, all of it built from the ground up, he could tell. The blood, sweat and tears put into making this town showed through every inch of the space it inhabited.

When they entered through the gates, two men shut the gates back up and someone else led the horses most probably to the stables. Life brimmed inside the walls. People were chatting casually, others were doing random activities like leading caravans of wood or stone, kids were playing in the mud and shop stalls were near abundant in all the corners he could see. It all felt like community. This wasn’t a low-down settlement, short on food, water and resources, barely struggling to survive with maybe even a hundred people in it, this was a town, a hub of life where people actually… lived, not survived.

‘Remind you of anything pops?’ Sam thought to himself, ‘Yeah, feels like home doesn’t it?’


	6. Chapter 6

“And here’s your room, at least for now.” Dina unlocked and opened the door to reveal a dimly lit, dusty, dirty, ram-shackled room. It reeked off old, wet, wood and months old covers, sheets and other assorted accessories that did little to make Sam warm up to his new little shack.  
“Guess you can see but we didn’t really clean this place in a while. Weren’t expecting any guests.” Jesse was the first to enter and quickly opened up the windows and shutters to let some light shine and have some fresh air finally come in.

‘Just like back in DC…’ Sam thought to himself, a comforting thought, yet disturbing at the same time. Everything seemed so familiar; the cramped space, the dirty bed, the suffocating air, and the little streams of light coming out from the window. “And here I thought you guys would be filling to the brim with people wanting to come and hang out with the Jackson County-ans.” He said sarcastically.

“Further up north maybe, that’s where most of our other settlements are.” Dina said.  
“Makes sense, nice grasslands there I heard, perfect for little farms. Winds and climate help stave off spores as well.”  
“Sounds like you already been there.” She cocked her brow at Sam.  
“Pops used to tell me all about it, ‘born on the border’ as he would say.” Sam unloaded the heavy bags he had been carrying around for about two hours now, a grimace on his face. ‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’  
“Ah, I gotcha. Sorry, I didn’t know. I won’t pry.” He felt almost guilty how many times he used his father’s death as a way to end any sort of inquiry, it was becoming a habit at this point.

“Don’t be, like you said there you didn’t know. Besides, I think his time up north is one of the few good memories he ever shared with me.” He placed his backpack on the bed as thousands of little dust speckles flew out in a cough-inducing burst. If he was going to bullshit his way into all these people’s home he needed to set his story straight, and that meant remembering all the small details and thinking of back-out excuses if he screws up.

“You need any help unpacking?” Jesse said, placing his hands on his hips while peeking at the bags on the floor.  
“Nah, its fine. You guys should head back home and get yourselves some rest, I don’t know about you but that horse ride has me kaput.” Sam   
“You sure? Dina and I don’t have anything better to do.” Just when Sam was about to object again Dina came in like an angel from the heavens for the support.  
“Come on Jesse; give the man a bit of a breather at least. We’ve been hounding him ever since we got through the gates.”  
“You heard her my man, tell you what how about tomorrow you two can show me around Jackson a bit after I met with Maria, let me get acquainted with the place a bit.” He gave out a proverbial olive branch to the two; it was obvious they were happy to have another person around their age to hang out with. Sam had to admit, it was quite refreshing being able to talk with other people as well, so it was a win-win situation so far.

“Alright, alright, we’ll get out of your hair. Getting some shut eye does sound pretty good right about now.”  
“We’ll see ‘ya later John.” Dina waved as she pushed Jesse out of the little shack they appropriated for Sam and the two left.

Now, all that was left was Sam, his stuff, and the racking guilt for continuing to lie to these people. ‘It’s not like I’m going to stay here for that long anyways, a week or two and I’ll be on my way and they’ll forget about me in not even half that time.’

But, now probably wasn’t the time to fuss over such things, even though saying that and actually doing it were two completely different matters. So in turn, Sam did the only thing he knew how to do when stuck in one place. He set himself to work. With the first thing on the list being unpacking what stuff he had from his bags.

The sun was still busy setting and hadn’t yet hid itself from behind the mountains when Sam was fully finished with everything. His clothes were the first things he settled out, or rather, just the extra pairs of everything he had on him. A jacket, a raincoat, a t-shirt, a long sleeve, pants, shorts, and a pair of boots he had for when it rained. It wasn’t much, but it kept him clean and dry most of the time.

Next up came his tools. The usual’s he managed to scrounge up years ago were the first to leave his bag. A pair of pliers, a small Swiss knife, a screwdriver, some scissors, a small metal hammer, and a pick for carving. He scoped them all up in his hands and placed them near a table opposite the bed, however, from the sheer amount of dust that came from his move he wished he hadn’t.

That was more or less the status of the entire little shack, dust, dust, and some more dust. ‘We sure they didn’t just put us here so we suffocate on dust bunnies pops?’ he thought jokingly. Still, he’ll have to deal with it pretty soon, because it was becoming annoying. ‘Staying somewhere only for a short while’s no excuse to not tidy up, that’s what you always told me.’

He set his mind to everything he would have to do tomorrow, the sun was already down, and as he placed all his clothes on the coat rackets in the wardrobe all the energy seemed to drain from his body. ‘Right, guess I’m done.’ And so he flopped down onto the dirty bed that squeaked so hard he could have probably heard it if he was on the other side of the damn county. ‘Note, take care of the springs for this damn bed as well.’

Tomorrow will be the busiest day in years most likely. He’ll have to wake up early to make himself at least somewhat presentable for this Maria woman. From what Jesse and Joel told him on the way here she’s the tough but fair type, so she’ll probably expect him to take up some work while he’s here. ‘That’s fine, it’s probably better than me sleeping here for weeks.’ Speaking of work, Jesse and Dina will probably expect him to take a tour with them around Jackson, which would be good for him to gain his footing. The hardest part will probably be meeting all the other people. Jackson seems to be a big place, at least if all the lights and houses had anything to say about it. From the way he saw people interacting Jackson also looked to be the place where everyone knew everyone, not that most settlements weren’t that way, but those usually had up to a hundred people, not a few thousand.

‘Those two are my gateway, I play my cards right I could probably get in good with some of their traders. Who knows, I might just find some parts for good old ‘Flinny here.’ He held his little makeshift gun tightly in his hands. After so many years, he was this close to completion, just a few more pieces and he was there. ‘But what then?’ Sam asked himself. It was not as if he wouldn’t use it, and the way it was made you could insert a pebble into the barrel and it would probably still fire properly. Still, he thought about what would be his next task once it was finished. ‘I got everything I need; food, clothes, drinking water, a gun, weapons. I need for nothing, yet woe is me for my heart yearns for nothing more than a purpose.’

He got up from the bed and held the gun with both hands. Slowly lifting it up Sam got a smile on his face. “Woe is me, dear Flintlock, what am I to do? You are my rock, my sun, my stars. So what am I to do when the flame of your completion is extinguished?” a few seconds passed in silence before Sam’s smile faded and he gently threw the gun in the bag.

‘Right, that’s enough of that. Time to hit the hay.’

He leaned back down on the bed, the soft mattress and pillow enveloping him as he pulled the blanket over himself. It was a type of comfort that some would call indescribable. Right now, he was in bliss. Yet, after he closed his eyes, he kept himself fully aware. Or rather, he couldn’t stop himself from being fully aware. Seconds passed, then minutes, then ten, then twenty, and still nothing. He kept completely still, his eyes closed, his breathing controlled and comfortable. Sleep wasn’t coming. It wouldn’t be coming now nor anytime soon. ‘God fucking dammit…’ he knew the reason, it was the same reason every time he could sleep.

Sam opened his eyes, the darkness of the night now fully visible from the soft and warm light from the outside. ‘I didn’t close the window.’ He thought. The reason was clear, the room was in the best shape, and he wasn’t about to die from dust bunnies. For now he’ll have to set aside his own paranoia for better air. ‘Is that what’s bothering me? No, course its fucking not.’

If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least listen, and that’s exactly what he did. The sounds of life were a foreign thing to Sam. He knew it only at a surface level. From his time in DC, where he was born, and from his time in Fort Empire, with the people that took him in. Yet, he could only associate those sounds with bitter memories. Memories from a better time, and a better life. The life he abandoned.

‘You got no right to feel sorry for yourself you piece of shit, you brought it on yourself.’ Tough words, harsh even, but they were true. He was the one who left DC, he was the one who left Empire. He has no right to complain about this life, he chose it himself. But homesickness wasn’t the cause for Sam’s lack of sleep either. Like always, he would have this little game with himself. Denial and excuses, eventually replaced with acceptance. He looped on it all back and forth, back and forth. ‘I guess a part of me still thinks I need fixing, huh pops?’

His bad little habit. The web he caught himself up in, this whole damn situation started because Sam chose to be the hero. ‘No, that’s not it and you know it.’ While the first words they exchanged may not have been lies, the words that came after were.

From the reasons as to why he was there, to the location of his camp, to even his own goddamn name. He lied about it all as smoothly as a leaf floating on the water. And why shouldn’t he? He knew how people were like out in this damn world. You couldn’t trust them, no matter how friendly they seemed. He’s seen it all, so much so that he’s also used so many names he stopped keeping track of them all. ‘Not like the people I gave ‘em to are still alive anyways, what do I have to complain if it makes my job easier.’

But if he intended to stay with them, then he had to keep track of every little thing he said. From the direction he came from, to the name he gave, to the damn way he speaks. ‘They know I’m from DC, or at least Joel knows. Still, he’s probably mentioned it once or twice so no point in hiding that.’ Sam ran his hands across his face. He was doing it again, that damn bad habit of his. ‘We’re on the other side of the damn continent, there’s no way anyone all the way from DC would be here. I’m safe in that department. But I gotta remember the fact I was never here nor anywhere near here when I first met them. If I slip up, I can always fall back on you pops.’ That was another thing he had to keep tabs on, his father. ‘You’re from here, you lived here back before the outbreak, and moved to New York with mom after everything.’ Perhaps there was some disrespect to making up a life story for a dead man, but at this point Sam didn’t care, no matter how guilty he felt because of it.

Finally, he would have to think about what to do with the name. He wasn’t even sure what to do honestly. He could probably come out to them tomorrow, apologize and explain how he was just being careful. ‘And then they’ll start suspecting you, not to mention that you had time. And what’s Maria gonna think? How could she trust me if I couldn’t even them all with my goddamn name.’ He wracked his brain for what possible solution there could be, to be honest or to continue with the charade.

That was when the idea came to him. If he said his name was John, who’s to say that it isn’t? What is a name anyway, who gets a say in what he can call himself besides himself. Whatever papers FEDRA had on him from DC they probably threw it out years ago. No one else from Empire would be here, and the hunters are few and far between, most of which would mainly know him as ‘Little shit’ or ‘Goddamn Roadkill’. Perhaps that was the right choice. ‘Yeah, I think this is the right choice pops.’

From now on, he would have to stop being Sam, and fully embrace the new name. He would be John, both to the people of Jackson, and to himself. ‘Alright then, Johnny boy, I guess its settled.’ A good start, thought it would take some getting used to.

Making up a game plan, he laid his head down on the pillow once more, and drifted peacefully off to sleep, ready to wake up and meet Maria in the morning. Not as Sam, but as John.

Old habits die hard, yet it’s the bad habits that go down with a fight.


	7. Chapter 7

The clock must have struck around nine o’ clock when they finally arrived at the bar and got their seats. It was a local place, as local as anything can be nowadays, and had all the essentials needed to run such a luxuriously needed establishment. Back in the day, this place would have been considered a nice little mom an’ pop shop down the roads across from where all the snooty businessmen and bankers drank their champagne and wine. In these times however, it may as well be the most popular place in San Francisco.

From the moment he and Michael entered Lucas could feel the heavy air of alcohol invade his nostrils and nearly pierce his skin with how humid the place is. _‘I swear the windows are never opened in this joint.’_

Thankfully, they managed to get here a bit early, top work hours usually started around an hour later than when they arrived. On one hand, it was smart of Mike to think ahead like that, on the other hand, he was sure that even if they got here at midnight he would have had the whole place cleared out before the two even got there.

“I don’t know how you can stand it Luke.” The raspy and ragged voice he had grown so accustomed to spoke from across the table. “Going out there, trying to convince those clowns to join up with us, let alone not to shoot you on sight. I’d say you have a death wish, but I know you better.”

“It’s a living Frank. Besides, if you ever bothered to leave that damn office of yours you would figure out not everyone’s as unreasonable as you think.” He took a large gulp from his mug of beer.

“Unreasonable?! Is that was you call it? Back in my day, we called it _bat fuckin’ insane_.” The old man was around Michael and Rody’s age, but if you looked at the three of them back to back, you’d think they were at least two generations apart.

“Oh stuff it already will ya? Every day its _‘blah blah bandits that’_ and _‘boo hoo lookat poor old me’_.” Camilla nearly flicked the old man’s eyebrows off with her glass, her words ringing through the entire building as she returned back to swishing her drink and taking the occasional sip of it. “Don’t listen to ‘em Luke. Frank and the Govna’ may look like they’re pissed, but we’re all proud of you.”

“Bit patronizing, but thank you either way Camilla.” He finished off what was left of his mug and slugged it back down on the table, the intoxicating bitterness spreading through the entirety of his body. “Barkeep!” Lucas called to the man currently cleaning out glasses for the incoming wave of customers. “Dave! Glass of water please!”

“Comin’ right up. Anything else you boys want?” By the time he finished his sentence, Dave was already through with filling up the glass and having another mug of beer already prepped.

“Whiskey!” Frank called.

“Rum!” Camilla raised her empty glass.

“Scotch for me Davey.” Michael tapped his cup twice before downing the rest of the drink.

They were an odd bunch. A gang of old coots, remnants from the old world, clinging on to whatever senses of normalcy they could find, yet aiming to bring back the memories of the past. Frank and Michael both were in their fifties now, though neither looked it. Camilla was a bit younger, though she never told, Lucas always assumed she was somewhere in her forties by this point, at least. And that left him, the youngest, though in this world, living to your thirties was considered a blessing. Back in the day, a scene like this would have probably turned an eye or two, but now, it’s just a couple of old fossils sharing a drink.

He still remembered when Rody first introduced them all to him, _‘New addition to your little project.’_ He said. It didn’t take long for the three to take a shine to him, and they to him.

Frank, a former office accountant turned official Minister of Interior Finance of San Francisco, he was the closest someone in the city got to being good with numbers, so Rody put him to work. His dedication to his work is second only to his fear of being put back on the field if he stopped being useful.

Michael, an Italian-American former pro-wrestler turned Secretary of the Defense of The Interior, or as he liked to call himself, The City’s Bodyguard. If there existed someone with more bravado and arrogance on this earth, Lucas had yet to meet them. Still, through all the sweat and muster seemed to be a genuinely well-intentioned old man, he was perhaps the definition of harsh but fair.

Camilla, the first and currently only foreign dignitary to the new United Federation of North America. Originally from England, she was Lucas’ only source of the outside world past America besides the radio messages they would get from other governments. When there is business to be made, she’s the woman to go to, and that’s also when she decides to pull out her _‘businesswoman’_ accent, as in whatever posh South-East London voice she can think of at the time. Whenever the curtains are down however, well, she could make a sailor blush with her mouth.

And then there was him, a poor little orphan boy taken in by the governor and raised with nothing but a chip on his shoulder and knack for running his mouth. When the spores first hit, he was still a kid, barely coming into his teens. Now, he’s just another survivor, except he wears a suit, and will sooner try and talk to you than smash your head in with a baseball bat.

Together, alongside the governor, they made up the bulk of the UFN’s Unification Party, advocating for the reunification of what’s left of humanity in North America, forming a new, Constitutional Federal Republic consisting of the former territories of the US, Canada and Mexico. _‘Step, by step, through the mud, and plain and towards a better future.’_

His thoughts quickly got interrupted with a slight jab from Michael’s shoulder. When he turned to look at him the man quickly twitched his eyes between him and something behind him.

“Here you are. Try not to drink too much this time Mikey; we can’t afford a new table.” A voice startled Lucas to jolt himself the opposite direction and see a familiar face.

“Sarah?” He said almost out of instinct, he was not one for blurting out words, but certain exceptions did exist, especially for the woman currently right next to him.

“Evening Luke. Heard you went on another suicide again.” Sarah effortlessly slid all four drinks across the table, all while keeping eye contact with him.

“Ah come on girl, our boy’s had his balls busted all day here! Give him some slack will ya?” Michael jumped in immediately, letting the new drink slide into his hand whilst cleaning the remaining liquid off of his moustache with his sleeve.

“Rightfully so. One of these days Luke, you’re going to go out there and not come back.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be the first laying down flowers at my gravestone.” He said sarcastically, which got a smirk out of her but also a smack on the top of the head with the metal tray she used to carry the drinks.

“Very funny.” Her annoyance was clear, though the smile was still there.

“You always did like it when I could make you laugh.” Even after two years the two managed to stay in a friendly relationship, which is both a blessing and a curse depending on who you ask. “We uh… appreciate, you grabbing our drinks Sarah but why not grab yourself one as well and join us?”

“Not really good workplace etiquette to be drinking on the job.” This time it was Lucas who smiled, though perhaps the humor had been lost on him. It was only after she said that that he noticed that Sarah was also wearing a black apron with a small _A_ stitched onto it, representing the name of the Bar.

Lucas took a quick look around the table, only to find equally smirking faces from his drinking companions. “Sorry Luke, I probably shoulda told you but I…” Michael rubbed the back of his head, his face squinting as hard as possible to try and think of an excuse before shrugging his shoulders, “…I kinda forgot.”

_‘So that’s why you wanted us to come here, huh?’_ Lucas glared daggers at the man, before turning back to Sarah, who looked about to leave before he stopped her.

“Since when did you start working here?”

“About a month ago.” She answered simply, picking up the empty mugs and cups onto the tray.

“What? But what happened to your job with the rangers?”

“You see any stripes on me right now Luke?” she made sure to lean in so he could have a good look at her scarred face, and the three deep cuts across it that still looked like they haven’t healed. When they first met, he noticed how much she liked to use her face as an intimidation tactic, but it was never as effective against him. Key word being _as_ effective.

“Do you want the honest answer or the joke answer?” he stared head on at the woman’s rugged and weary eyes, it was clear she wasn’t getting enough sleep again.

“How brave are you feeling right now?” she grabbed the handle of his former mug, if anyone else was here they would have probably thought a fight was about to break out.

“Alright lovebirds, break it up.” David the bar owner stepped in from across the room, still cleaning his glasses from the other side of the shank. “Sarah, get back here and take a look at storage, see if everything is still there.”

“Got it.” She picked up the last two glasses and went to turn around before Lucas stopped her again.

“Hey, listen.” He grabbed her by her free hand and leaned in. “How long are you working?”

“Till about midnight, that’s when most people are gone.” She raised her brow in both confusion and anticipation, though something told him she already knew what he was going to ask.

“Listen, how about after work I walk you back home? We can catch up a bit.” He suggested, and Sarah thought on it a bit, before giving him a look.

“Uhuh, and I’m sure your intentions are completely chivalrous and you totally _don’t_ intend to get shitface drunk, right?”

“I really don’t want to ruin this suit Sarah.” Lucas clasped his hands and begged with his eyes for her to accept.

“Fine, but you throw up on me I’m leaving you in a ditch.” And with that, the former Ace Pilot turned waitress left.

He turned back to his table to stare into the hearts of all the traitors sitting beside him. To which they all responded in kind with smirks, smiles and hushed giggles. “Another word about this and I’m taking this mug, breaking it, and pushing the shards up all your asses.”

“Oh come on Luke.” Camilla pushed up her glasses and looked at him the same way an aunt would look at her nephew at a birthday party opening his presents. “I always liked it when you two were still together. Don’t think I don’t see you eyein’ the girl whenever you can. You may think women don’t notice it but we do.”

“Now now Camilla, let it go.” Frank interjected. “They’re both adults, they’ve made their choice and we shouldn’t try and force anything if they don’t want it.”

“Thank you Franklin.” He raised his mug to the old accountant and took a sip, for once it seemed he was being the voice of reason.

“I’m just saying you two _would_ be very good together…” And there was always a catch. The detriment with being the youngest of the four is that the other three often liked to think of themselves as matchmakers

Lucas slammed the mug back down on the table and pointed at the two, “Mug. Ass. Shut.”

“Alright boys, now’s not the time for arguing. It’s for celebrating!” he raised his glass. “To our Lucky Luke, slickest tongue in all San Francisco!”

“Hear, hear!” Frank raised his own as well, saluting and clinking alongside Michael’s toast.

“I’ll drink to that!” Camilla did the same, her glasses nearly falling off from the quick motions she did with her drink.

They may have had their issues, but Lucas grew fond of his little gang of cadres and friends. For all their faults, there was no one else he would have beside him getting absolutely shitface drunk.

_‘It’s gonna be a long night.’_

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

That morning, he put on the best set of clothes he could get, which was essentially just his other outfit that he didn’t use much yet. While opinions most likely weren’t determined much by appearances in the apocalypse, it didn’t hurt to at least try and look presentable. He got up early, very early. However, perhaps the right wording for it was that he never really even slept. Jackson was a lively place, and it had been so long away from places like it that he still hadn’t acclimated to all the noises and sounds bustling throughout the night.

There was some merit to his lack of sleep however, which was giving him more than enough time to get his entire story straight, and coming up with enough of an argument for this Maria woman to let him stay in Jackson, at least long enough for him to do some trade.

“So, you’re the guy who saved my people?” Speak of the devil; she was the first person he spoke to today. He expected to meet her today, what he didn’t expect however was her coming right up to his doorstep before he was even able to put on his boots.

“That I am. And I assume you’re the leader of this little town.” He reached out his hand to which she responded in kind and the two shook hands. He was getting good at this whole socializing thing.

“Maria. Joel and Ellie told me a bit about you… Jack right?”

“John.” He said as she entered into the somehow still dust-filled shack. “Knowing the two of them I assume half the things they told you were ways of making me look like an ass, and none of them were my actual name.” From the smile on her face, it seemed she at least had a sense of humor, though not on the same level of receptiveness as Dina and Jesse.

“Sorry, I can’t tell you the amount of John’s in Jackson, hard to keep track of names.”

“I can relate. Though maybe not on your level.” he led her to the small couch sofa opposite the bed, where she sat down. _‘Get her comfortable; don’t let her think you’re a threat. Just… be yourself.’_

“Well anyways, I just dropped by so I can get a good look at you.” She clasped her hands, eyeing every square inch of him. “But as you probably know, appearances can be deceiving, so I’m going to ask you some questions. From what Joel and Ellie _have_ told me you seem to be a reliable guy, I would hate to have you kicked out over certain… disagreements.”

_‘Smart, it looks like you know how to play this game at least. Probably should have taught Jesse and Dina that before you sent them out though.’_ He couldn’t help but give out a smirk as he pulled out a creaky wooden chair from the back and sat opposite to her. “Alright, shoot. Though before we _do_ start do you mind telling me what those disagreements are perchance?”

“We’ll get there, don’t you worry. First I wanna get some things straight.” And so the interrogation session began, and John’s heart began pounding. No matter how relaxed he was trying to play himself out to be, there was no denying the sweat beginning to form around his brows.

“Where are you from?”

“DC.”

“Long way from home, what brought you here.”

“Lotta things. Mainly the station me and my pops living in being raided by Fireflies.”

“So you lived with FEDRA?”

“Yup, whole childhood spent either in the boot camp or in my pops’ auto-station.”

“You must know your way around machinery then. Tell me, are you any good with cars?”

“Vehicles not so much, so if you were planning on having me be a mechanic I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint. What I am good at it is ingenuity, particularly with tools and firearms.”

“Consider yourself to be a gunsmith?”

“More practicing apprentice, pops already taught me what he could, rest I learned from trial and error. I can clean, repair, maintain and whip up just about anything that can use firepower, just give me the right tools.”

“Well I’m afraid we’re not exactly abundant on weapon parts _or_ tools for making them. Got any other skills?”

“Just about as much as anyone else trying to survive out there. I’m good in a fight, I can scrounge up supplies, think on my feet.”

John stopped for a second and thought on whatever else he was good at, and Maria seemed just patient enough to let him remember. His time spent alone these past few years helped hone his survival skills to the point of undebatable sharpness, and yet, that was nothing new. There were perhaps thousands of others like him out there, and maybe hundreds even living here in Jackson. Being a master survivor wasn’t really worthy of bragging right in the apocalypse. That was when the thought came to him.

“And I can play some bitchin’ piano.”

“Mhm, I’m sure.”

Not the reaction he was expecting, but still, it was clear she was beginning to warm up to him. _‘Not as much of a hard ass as I was expecting, should make this whole thing a lot easier.’_ He thought. He wasn’t answering all these questions to impress her anyways, he just needed that _tiny_ bit of trust where he could walk around the town without getting side-eyed by the locals. It may sound wrong, but Maria was being used just as much as they were probably going to try and use him.

“So.” She crossed her legs and leaned back on the couch, a much more serious face beginning to take hold. “It must have been tough on you, living by yourself all those years.”

_‘Shit. By myself for years? Did I ever tell them that, if not how can they know?’_ Though his posterior remained mostly the same, inside he was screaming, desperately trying to recall if he ever mentioned his journeys, said anything that might give him away or prove a discrepancy in his story. “Who said anything about being by myself.” The best approach was to play it cool, don’t try anything that could be seen as hostile.

“The way you walk, carry yourself. The way you talk, spend so much energy on every word to get it just right. If I was blind I’d say you’re the spitting image of Joel, but he manages to hide it better.” Seen through like glass. Maria may not have been a hard ass, but her relaxed demeanor seemed to be as much of an act as John’s confidence. “Am I wrong?”

“Not entirely.” He responded almost immediately as if he were the pulling the trigger at a duel. “Living all by your lonesome, with no one around… it’s tough, real tough.”

“I can imagine. When I first met my husband, you could have probably mistaken him for a rabid dog, instead of food however, he just seemed to be craving a nice conversation.”

“Isolation. That’s the first hurdle, and from the way _you_ walk and talk I can see you’re good with people, a bit too good.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Trust me, it is. But it’s not the loneliness that kills you. Usually that just drives you crazy. It’s the struggle, the drive to keep going knowing you don’t have anyone watching your back. You have to keep moving, have to keep running, have to keep fighting, because you know no one’s coming to save you.”

“And yet you do it anyways. Instead of being part of a group, you keep running. Instead of settling down, you keep fighting.” She leaned in once more, her voice reduced to less than a hushed whisper. “Why is that?”

It was as if he heard himself talking at that moment. This little question session quickly turned into a personal therapy. _‘Might as well answer her. What’s the harm in being honest every now and again.’_ His bad little habit didn’t seem to get the better of him this time.

“Because…” he started, and yet the words seemed to leave him tongue-tied for a moment. “Because I don’t want to. Because it’s easier. Because only caring for yourself can mean when shit hits the fan you don’t have any baggage about leaving.” He crossed his arms and stared at the coffee table between them, from here it looked to almost separate them as much as a small chasm would. “I can tell you lived your life around people. Honest, good, kind-hearted people. In addition, I can also see that you know the worst of them almost as much as I do. Playing with people’s not the same as playing with dogs or horses. They’re spontaneous, erratic, sometimes you can’t reason with ‘em, sometimes you _can_ … but maybe your differences are just too great. In the end it always ends the same, with one of you dead on the ground and the other person having to deal with the burden of having another man’s blood on his hands.”

Throughout his entire little monologue Maria stared with nary even a blink, he thought that perhaps she didn’t believe him, but it was clear that she was listening, that much was sure.

“I take back what I said.” Her soft and calming voice was a stark contrast to the no-nonsense attitude of just a few moments ago. “It doesn’t take someone to be blind to see just how same you are to him.”

“Who, Joel, or your husband?”

“Both.” She got up from the couch, small dust peddles following her frame as she did as beams of light seemed to make them that bit more noticeable. “I may not ever be able to understand your type, John. Lord knows I’ve tried to do it with those Miller boys for years now.”

What once seemed to be an endless chasm spanning kilometers quickly turned back to a regular coffee table as Maria made her way to John and he stood up to meet her face to face. Only now did he realize the size difference between the two, he was almost half a head taller than she was and yet the two seemed to look at each other with near to no difference. Like before they shook hands, and yet this time there seemed to be much less animosity in the air, and John’s heart finally stopped beating.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to Jackson for as long as you like. Hell, I’d appreciate it if you stayed for good, might be nice to have some young people spice the place up again.”

“You sure about that? For all you know you just invited a serial killer into your house with a handshake and a smile.”

“Serial killers usually don’t have a moral conscience about the killing they do, believe me, _that_ I do know.”

Maria was about to leave John’s little shack before turning back to him. “If you wanna do some work and earn a hot meal on your plate come to me tomorrow, I’ll set you up with something. If not, then I’m sure there’s stuff here you can trade for some good stuff.”

“I’ll be sure to take you up on both of those offers, and do my best not to be starting fights with the locals.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep John. Half the complaints I get around here are drunken brawls and petty name-calling.”

“So I guess you really are the law here, huh?”

“Jackson County’s my responsibility, there’s not a thing that happens around these parts I don’t know about, remember that.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Once they said their final goodbyes John shut the doors behind him and breathed perhaps the biggest sigh of relief in decades. _‘Thought I would be done with all the vetting shit once I left FEDRA.’_ Though the whole conversation lasted maybe not even half an hour, it felt like days, and there were times where he almost cracked under the pressure. _‘I have to work on that. I need to get comfortable, these are good people, they don’t wanna hurt you. Yet, at least.’_

He was about ready to go back to bed, this little event seemed to tire him out more than any encounter with the infected in the past six years. However, the only thing currently keeping him from passing out was the promise he made. Though he still had time, it probably wouldn’t do for him to go around Jackson drowsy and just woken up.

The entire experience was a cold hard splash of water to the face, and no matter how much he wanted to fall asleep, he still had things to do. So for now, he would pass time by cleaning this god-forsaken shack a little.

_‘I hope Jackson has a bar, because now seems like a good time to start drinking.’_


	8. Chapter 8

“It ain’t much, but it’s honest work.”

“ _Ain’t much_ my fuckin’ ass, my backs killing me.”

It had been about a week or so since he had come to Jackson now. All of it seemed almost like a blur when John thought about it, the city, the talk, the outpost, the talks, Jackson, the talk _again_. If he was any closer to getting accustomed to a settled down life, it couldn’t be farther from the truth, and he intended to keep it that way. _‘I’ll work and work and work some more, these people put a roof over my head and a hot meal on my plate, least I can do is pay them back somehow.’_ He raised up the metal rack and began working on the next line. _‘But if I keep fucking planting these potatoes it’ll kill me faster than a clicker ever could.’_

In the smallest recesses of his brain, he thought of the fact that Ellie and Jesse would most likely be dead if not for him, and that perhaps his actions before justified some sort of reward. Those thoughts were quickly put away however, nothing is fair in this world, you can only make do with what you’re given.

“Come on slowpoke, all you young’uns may have learned to finally get off your behinds and scrap up something worth a damn, but when it comes to raisin’ something up you’re slower than my palsy ridden granny, God rest her soul.” His talkative friend did not make things easier, in the time it took him to dig up a full row and plant the cut up potatoes, George seemed to have already done twice the work with half the sweat and pain.

“Not everyone was raised amongst the donkeys and chickens, cowpoke.” He raised the rake just high enough and let gravity do the rest. The metal quickly pierced the dirt, enveloping it as John quickly pulled his tool out, dragging a clump of dirt along with it. “And for God’s sake, can you stop hogging all the water?! That’s supposed to last us the entire day!”

“You want the water, you work for it. These bad boys are supposed to last us through spring and summer.”

“Aren’t potatoes supposed to be planted in the spring though? My pops always told me you can’t plant seedlings in cold temperatures because they can’t handle the frost.”

“Your pops was a smart man then, but these potatoes here are St. Jules. We plant ‘em, wait about ten weeks and before the snows even fall we’ll have about twenty full bags worth of ‘em. Even more if we wait an extra two weeks.”

“I’ll trust your expertise then.” If he was an expert farmer, he could have probably known if George was telling the truth, but a life on the move didn’t give way for any kind of cultivating, not even in his time in DC did he ever even set foot in the greenery’s they had around the outposts.

Maria gave this job to him because George’s old partner, Lenny, passed away a couple weeks ago from a cold. He was an old man, a bit older than George, who was no spring chicken himself, so it was probably inevitable. Apparently, George didn’t want anyone else tending to the fields, and so kept working on them all by himself, until one day he collapsed from exhaustion and had to rest a good week in bed. When his time for resting had finally run up, George practically leapt at the chance to get back to his old field, but this time, Maria forced him to take at least one more person with him, or she wouldn’t allow him anywhere near the fields. _‘And you can guess who pulled out the lucky raffle on that one…’_

He was an annoying old man, for sure. Not as brooding or anti-social as someone like Joel, but at the same time not as open or relaxed as someone like Eugene. He was an old-timer through and through, and with that came all the vicissitudes of age and apparently something to prove. The old cowpoke was not all bad though, were it not for him, he probably wouldn’t have a clue at what he was doing, and for all his faults John couldn’t help but feel thankful at how patient George seemed to be with him.

One step at a time he started paving a way for the new row of potatoes, he was about done raking up his own row when George was in the middle of already planting his third line. “I think my rake is defective.” He commented, trying to draw attention away from the backbreaking work. Over the last few days, John noticed how he was starting to be the one initiating many of the conversations he had been in, though maybe initiate is too strong of a word.

“It ain’t the tool; it’s the person holdin’ it. And for Pete’s sake it’s not a _rake_ , it’s a hoe.” George slowly moved across his own row, carefully planting cut up potatoes in the middle while making up a pace John could only hope to achieve in his dreams.

“Don’t you guys have any tractors, or horses you could use to do this whole thing faster? That’s what we did back in DC.”

“Can’t, no spare fuel we can use for the tractors, not to mention no tractors-“

“Bullshit, I saw at least ten in Ted’s workshop.”

“Yeah well if you can manage to both find the parts and screw ‘em all in just right to make them all work then be my guest. And the ones you saw at Ted’s are mainly scrap anyway, good plates for reinforcing the wall.”

“Alright, then what about horses? You seem to be absolutely teeming with the bug-eyed bastards.”

“Hooves’ll mess up the dirt, you can’t mess up the dirt. Gotta be gentle with it, real gentle. Less it won’t grow, get damaged, and then boom, no food for anybody.”

If it was one thing he despised about the old man, it was his constant and never-changing tone of voice. Never too rough, never too soft, it was perhaps the greatest balance of “raspy old man voice” he ever heard, and yet that was what made it so frustrating. Usually, he could tell a person’s intent based on the way they spoke. An intonation, a click of the tongue, a pause, any sound he could spot gave him just enough information to discern what they could say next. But with George, the only thing he could discern about him was that he wanted to plant fucking potatoes.

* * *

**4 hours later…**

“Done and done…” he clapped his hands, waving off the copious amounts of dirt that began in the callouses of his palms. They managed to dig up, plant, and then bury about 20 rows worth of future food. “Now just wait 4 to 5 months and our kids won’t starve after we all die from hypothermia.

“Don’t sass the land boy. The land gives, it can take away as well.” George was busy gathering up all the tools and equipment before jumping in on John’s little monologue.

“And how exactly does it _‘take away’_?” he crossed his arms, George always loved talking about _The Land_ like it’s some great spirit or God that provided them with potatoes. “Last I checked these fields aren’t made for growing spores.”

“Not spores, worms.” that got John to raise his brow, he knew about tapeworms, they were mean sons of bitches, and he got all too familiar with how much they could fuck you up if they got in your stomach. “They can take out an entire settlement overnight, and you won’t even notice. I’ve seen dozens of people die from ‘em, and it’s never pretty.”

There was a silence, and John took a glance around their work. His day so far started with him getting up at dusk, just to avoid George’s snide remarks of _‘those damn young’uns’_. And then for the next 6 hours the two spent their time doing the same thing they’ve been doing these past few days. Why Maria never assigned more people to tend to these fields was beyond him, perhaps there was a lack of people, or maybe they just had better things to do than plant potatoes in the damn autumn.

There was more than enough work to be done in the greenery’s, and it wasn’t like the land around Jackson wasn’t good for farming either. From the sheer amount of wheat they could make alone Jackson could probably fill out an entire silo. And yet, here he was, breaking his back with someone who was top of the list of strangest people to meet.

Strange was perhaps too harsh a word. There was nothing wrong with the old man per say, and it’s not as if he lacked in the communications department. Still, John could never scratch that feeling of something being off. _‘It was that damn voice. No one manages to stay that calm, doesn’t matter how in control of yourself you are.’_ He thought. The residents of Jackson shared the same level of suspicion when it came to John, with many giving him side-eyed glances and snider remarks behind his back, but that was part and parcel of a newcomer to any settlement. Save for Jesse, and Dina though, George was he had talked to long enough to establish some kind of connection.

An idea came to him, maybe this little detour could prove useful after all, and not just in terms of trade. _‘He’s not from here, he’s a traveler like me, only joined a few years ago. Maybe I can get some information out of him.’_ Just when he was about to say something however, the old man interrupted him.

“Right, we just need to tick one last thing of the list and you’re free to go for today.” George used his free hand to point to the sack full of seeds, right next to it about 4 large bottles previously filled with water. “Grab those and lets go over to the Shed, I need to do a check of the tools, see if everything’s still there.”

He nodded and did as he was told. For all the complaining he would do, John still felt somewhat obligated to help the old man with whatever he could. _‘He’s getting up there in the years, I give him a year or two more before he can’t bring himself to get up from his rocking chair.’_

The Shed, as it was called, was more of an old storage house used to store not only farming tools but a plethora of other assorted equipment meant to keep Jackson running. He had only been there once before, while he was on his little tour with Jesse, and even then he didn’t manage to get a good look at the whole interior. _‘Second time’s the charm though.’_ He thought.

As they made their way back from the plot of land used for farming, they met up with a few other Jackson people riding horseback the opposite way. One was an old carriage driver, seemed to be around George’s age, he was transporting a few logs to help with construction of the new wall surrounding said plot of land. He nodded to George as a greeting and George simply responded with the same nod and a “Good to see ya.”

“Why do you guys wanna build a wall so far from Jackson? You got outposts all around and plus it’s not like you’re gonna have any infected coming around any time soon.”

“It ain’t the infected we aim to keep out. Deer and wolves often come ‘round these parts boy, not to mention bears.”

“Bears? Don’t tell me you got Grizzlies up here.” He moaned internally, his last few encounters with bears ended rather badly to say the least.

“No, black bears mostly, they scare off easily. But it’s not the fact we’re trying to defend ourselves, we’re defending the land John.”

_‘Land this, land that, do you ever shut about your damn land.’_ He had half the mind to piss on his precious _land_ next time he came up there. “Still, why not just have someone be posted to guard the place? It would be easier to do that than to devote so much time and resources for a full scale construction project.”

“One man can only do so much. If you shoot in the sky, you could probably scare of a bear or a pack of wolves, but that’s precious ammo wasted, and lemme ask you something; What happens when the wolves don’t run?”

“Fair enough.” It made sense, and if Jackson had both the time and resources to perform such tasks without too much strain on their manpower then they’re far better off than most settlements. “You think Maria would let me help out there? Maybe they could use an extra hand.”

“You’re gonna have to ask Tommy for that, he runs all the building stuff ‘round here. He’s also in charge of the damn. If you ever get tired of me, you could always volunteer over there, I’m sure he’d just _love_ to have you there.”

“If that was your attempt to guilt trip me into abandoning you then don’t worry old man, I plan on leaving in a week anyway. You won’t have to deal with my ugly mug for much longer.”

“Mhm…”

Silence befell them again as they continued marching on down back to Jackson. The fields were located a good few miles away from the town, on a hill overlooking it all. While the trek towards the field may have been utter hell, the trip back was a literal breeze. They descended the dirt path leading back, the cool autumn winds cooling them both off. Combined that with the sweat they built up working all morning, the cold was a mix between refreshing and shiver inducing.

Again, they met a few people riding up to where they just were, this time it was a pair of horse riders. One of them wore a leather-skinned cowboy hat with a rope wrapped around the core of it, while the other wore one made of straw that was much bigger and covered his eyes in a deep shadow.

“Good to see ya’ Jack.” George waved at the first rider.

“George.” Jack tipped his hat to the old man. “How’s the harvest lookin’?”

“We just planted ‘em. You gotta have patience for these things. I swear, young people these days; all they know how to do is go out and scavenge for their food, they just want everything in a can these days…”

“Ah, now you’ve revved him up.” The straw hat joined in on the conversation.

“Alright, alright George, settle down now.” Jack managed to stop him before he continued to ramble on before shifting his gaze towards John. “You’re the new kid right? Don’t think we’ve met before.” He rode up to him, leaned down and shook his hand. “Jack, good to meet ya’.”

“John, likewise.” It was perhaps the first bit of hospitality he received after his talk with Maria.

“The old man treating you right? I can imagine he’s already blown both your ears and your back.”

“You kidding? Haven’t even broke a sweat yet.”

“Ain’t what you were saying back there. I knew from the second I saw you riding in with that Ellie girl that she would be a bad influence on you, always yappin’ and yawnin’ like a gaggle of donkeys.”

“Don’t that remind us of someone, Jack?” the straw hat grinned a bucktooth smile.

“No Liam I think it does not.” Jack’s horse neighed a vicious breath, causing John to lock his eyes with the steed. “Don’t like horses John?”

“You kidding, he’s scared shitless of ‘em. Got a phobia or something, though I never met a boy in my life who never liked horses.” George cackled like a lung cancer patient on his deathbed.

“Keep yapping old man and next swing I do with this hoe is going up your ass.” He did a little swing motion with his tool for the extra emphasis.

“In your dreams, little boy. First you’d have to catch me, and I ran a marathon back in the day, y’know? Yeah, ever tell you all about that, old Georgie’s a marathon-“

“Yes, George, we know.” Jack interrupted the old man once more, it seemed he was used to dealing with his talkative antics. “Right, let’s go Liam. You boys take care now.”

And with that the two cowboys rode off towards the farming fields. John could only assume they were meant to be the guards posted there while the wall was being built. At least, if the rifles on their backs were anything to go by. Jack didn’t seem to put too much emphasis on it as he had it kept on the side of his horse’s saddle opposite to John, almost as if he was trying to hide it. Meanwhile, Liam seemed to pay no mind to hiding his gun, having it slung over his back almost as a show of pride, as if it was a medal.

Once they were well away from the two, John tried to make more conversation with George. Yet, he seemed to be tongue-tied all of a sudden, forgetting what it was he wanted to speak to him about. The more time passed the more John began to realize how used to conversation he was becoming, almost chasing it at this point.

“They seemed like a nice bunch.” He blurted out.

“Liam and Jack? Yeah, they’re good kids. Though they’re usually put in as scouts, don’t know why they would ever volunteer for guard duty. Knowing those two they’ll sooner fall over drunk than stand in place for a second.”

“Seemed pretty calm for someone who can’t stand in place for too long.”

“Yeah, maybe the cold’s finally calmed them down. Who knows? Now let’s hoof it boy, I want us back before sundown.”

* * *

**2 hours later…**

From the last time he was here, John could have sworn the building did not look as old and run-down as it is right now. The warehouse seemed to be a good mix of wooden and old stone architecture, with the inside consisting of mainly wood planks and old pillars made of the same oak that surrounded Jackson. Jesse told him that it was made before Jackson became a settlement, before the world fell apart. Who built it, no one knew, besides Maria’s father, who passed away a long time ago.

“Here, write down what I tell you.” George handed him a pen and paper and began counting the tools. “1,2,3… 12… 15… 26 axes, write that down.” And so they began the arduous task of finding everything written down from the last time George was there.

  * _26 axes_
  * _13 shovels_
  * _57 picks_
  * _24 sickles_
  * _15 kg of firewood_
  * _12 drapes against rain_



All in all the storehouse seemed packed for what it was. Most of the things John wrote down weren’t so easy to find though. They were all thrown around haphazardly or placed without any care. The axes were mainly hooked on the walls, lining them and placed as if they were torches, the light reflecting off the sunlight from the metal and illuminating the dimly lit building. While the firewood was thrown around the floor as if a bunch of horses came in, started hoofing around like they were chock full of heroin and at the same time their saddles were filled with logs for some reason.

“Right, gimme that.” George trudged through the scattered piles of tools, wood, dust and cobwebs. All this time John had intentionally kept himself close to the entrance, which also served as the exit and as his only source of fresh air, not to mention the fact that he was getting sick of dust. “Pretty good, but its 20 drapes, not 12.” John handed him the pen as George crossed over the original number and replaced it with a _20_ above.

The old man looked about to throw the pen and paper off to the side when he took a second glance, squinting his eyes and tilting his hand a bit closer. “You got very… eloquent, writing. Anyone ever tell you that?”

That was something new. A compliment? Preposterous. “I feel like this is going to turn into another rant by you. Fuck it, I’ll bite, why are you commenting on my _eloquent_ writing.” He never thought too much on his style of writing, though he was often complimented on it, especially by his father. _‘You always told me I had my mother’s hands.’_

“No, no, nothing like that.” All of a sudden the old man’s compliment made him turn over a whole new side that John hadn’t seen before. “Just… reminded me of someone.” His voice was far more solemn than ever before and whatever smugness he had left in him seemed to deflate like a balloon.

“Alright, well, if there’s nothing else you need from me…”

“Yeah, yeah, you go on ahead, I’ll just do one more round-up for good measure.

He was about to leave when his guilt got the better of him. If there was a conversation to be had here, John had neither the energy nor the knowhow of what he could do. Still, he often found a single word said here and there could be worth more than one would think.

“Hey George, why’d you choose me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you don’t want anyone else tending to… you know, _The Land_. I just wanted to, y’know, just ask.”

“And you have every right to ask that. One day, I just might tell you.”

All the time the old man did not even bother to turn around and look at John, but the intent was clear from his voice.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then. See you tomorrow George.”

“Take care.”

Jackson was as lively as ever. However, that didn’t mean much for John. When you’re the new guy around town, it was obvious that people would be distrusting to say the least. Jesse and Dina were exceptions to the rule of course, but people like them were rare, and while he seemed to gain the trust of people like Maria and Joel, Jackson unfortunately was not a hive mind, and people like to talk.

He got everything from dirty looks, people talking behind his back and two days ago, an old drunk fool was looking to pick a fight with him for _‘looking at him wrong’_ , whatever that means. While everyone around him walked along, living their lives, and embracing the warm lights of their homes to combat the cold autumn winds, the air around John seemed to ooze in tension.

When he thought back to his interaction with that Jack fellow, his whole demeanor made him stand out even more. He trotted along on his horse with an almost conserved bravado around him, while Liam seemed to be content grasping at the light of his shadow. The straw-hat man seemed to revel in the bombastic nature of his little role in Jackson. Still, he would have to take a mental note of those two, if only for the fact that they acknowledged his existence past a wayward glare.

Finally arriving at his home he was expected to be greeted by a cloud of dust and ragged air. Thanks to his efforts however, the Jackson County guesthouse may as well have become a five star hotel. Everything from the dust, to the old bedsheets, to the scattered clothing had all been dealt with. If it was one thing he was proud of doing since he came to this place, it was the effort he made to live somewhere that looked presentable. It was a little thing, but that small ounce of pride he felt every time he would come back home after a morning’s worth of work was indescribable. It almost made him sad to have to leave it all, but what can you do.

_‘You still got a week and a half Sammy, you got time.’_ John thought, before wincing at the realization. _‘Shit, wrong, wrong, that’s wrong. Don’t slip up, you gotta remember.’_

Once fully inside he closed the doors and began taking off the sweaty clothes for a bath, well, more just a bucket of water but it was better than nothing. Back in Fort Empire, these kinds of things were considered luxuries, luxuries the settlement couldn’t afford. While DC may have been better off, showers and baths only came on mandatory and regulated _‘cleaning days’_ where a majority of workers would get a day in the week off to recuperate and wash off the muck and filth from their hard days’ labor.

The work he did with George had not been kind to John’s feet, nor his shoes, as every time he would come back he had a box to take them off in and spill out all the dirt that got inside. It was not as if he was a clean freak, he got more than used to dirt and grime from the time he travelled alone, _‘But like you said pops, I got my mother’s hands, and mom was a clean freak.’_

The water that brisked across his skin felt almost like an icicle creeping down his spine, and yet it was refreshing to say the least. Sitting in the tub after all the backbreaking work, it gave him time to reflect, the cold serving almost to calm both his body and his mind. _‘Who would have thought the settling down type of life was good for me, eh pops?’_

Before he came here, his days were spent mostly wandering around wherever he felt like, always finding something new, something interesting, something to learn about. And yet, he doesn’t miss it one bit. He thought the life of a drifter would be one of action and adventure, but in reality, like with all things, it was only a gateway to brutality and death. Still, despite all his complaints, there was a part of him still yearning for it. He wanted to go up the mountains overlooking Jackson, he wanted to explore those dense woods, he wanted to draw the landscapes alongside a dimly light campfire in the morning dusk.

His time here gave him a form of comfort, security, a routine he can go through every day to keep him busy. Not to mention the fact that he had grown far more talkative, yet the only people he could use said talkativeness on seemed to be Jesse, Dina and George, maybe the odd stranger willing to trade words with him.

As he got out the bath tub the calm and soothing cold soon turned freezing and John ran to dry himself and wrap up in a new set of clothes. He was thankful that at least Jackson’s few traders seemed more than happy to speak to him, but that was more because of the prospects of new things to acquire for their little shops.

Once he was fully clothed again, he sat down at his little workshop he made on the other side of the room. Nothing more than a simple wood table with a few drawers and a lamp, but it was all he needed to continue his little work. From the first drawer down he opened and pulled out his makeshift flintlock. Work was progressing steady, the handguard was more or less done by now, and he even managed to make an upper casing for the barrel out of wood and aluminum, so hopefully it won’t explode when he finally decides to use it.

Next up will probably have to be the sights. While this thing was certainly not made for long range in mind, it would be good to have at least some form of iron sights on it to not make aiming it impossible. Immediately his mind started to come up with ways to implement something like it. The easiest route would probably be just to scrap up about three small bits of metal and fashion them on with either tape or weld them onto it like he did with the matchstick and trigger guard. The other option could possibly be a rail sight, the ones he used to see that on all the double-barrels in DC, they seemed to be quite popular with hunting rifles as well. Opening the second lower drawer he pulled out his ruler and a bit of chalk to get the measurements in place.

From his time making this thing the most important rule he learned was to always take measurements for everything. You can make the most sleek and advance parts in the world but it wouldn’t mean shit if it can’t even fit in the damn gun. Back in DC, his father would teach him how to effectively mark things on his rulers and what the best tools were to use when marking them. Chalk was usually the everyday choice, easy enough to find, but if not you can take something else that can easily be erased once used.

Just as he was about to immerse himself in his work however, a knock came from his door, jolting him back into the real world.

“John, you there?” Dina’s words were accentuated with even more knocks on the door. John got up from his chair and opened up the door to see the girl kitted out in what could only be described as the most elaborate safety harness he ever saw.

“Dina… why are you wearing that?” he eyed her up and down only to notice more and more protective gear with each passing glance.

“Good question, one I shall counter with one of my own. You done with all your work today?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he leaned himself on one the left side of the doorframe.

“Me and Ellie are heading over to the stabled to do some work on the horses. I just wanted to see if you want to come with us?” she adjusted her legs a bit, causing all the loose parts that looked more akin to bicycle gear to begin shaking and rattling for just a moment.

“Ah, is that so? You were curious to see if I wanted to go to the stables?”

“Yup.”

“With all the horses.”

“Correct.”

“That I hate.”

“On the money.”

The absolute audacity of the girl always stunned him, he could tell she never put up any sort of act when it came to talking with others, just from the short time he’s known her did John get to truly be astonished at how much honesty was something to be bewildered upon in this world. Though honesty perhaps was not the right word for it, it was the bluntness of it all, and in a world where everything down to a person’s name can be considered meaningless, it was shocking to John just how much power her words could hold.

“Okay. What are you planning?” two could play at that game. “You trying to _‘help’_ someone again?”

“What, no, of course not.” She let out a dumb-founded smile alongside a bewildered gasp, all of which were so fake it made him want to shut the door right now.

“Uhuh, then if it’s not that then what? And are these fabled stables perchance located on a minefield?” He gestured to her body, he would have tried to be more specific were it not for the sheer amount of protection the girl was wearing.

“Look.” She cut off any other attempt at a snide remark. “Jesse’s out on a scouting mission, and frankly, he’s always been good with Ellie. Ever since we came back though, she’s done nothing but stay at home and dote on Joel like an old grandma. I just want her to leave the house a little.”

“Aren’t you just the shining example of philanthropy.” He couldn’t help but let out a smirk, much to her chagrin. “So what, you thought that maybe a few jogs around with Shimmer would get Ellie to leave her dad’s side after she almost lost him?”

“Oh don’t patronize me, you know that if me and Jesse didn’t drag you out of this dirty old shack every evening you would just coop yourself up here and do… whatever it is you do I don’t know.”

“I’ll concede to that point. But answer me this, where exactly do I enter into this whole equation?”

“Well…” she huffed a bit, the girl obviously did not expect this much resistance. John at this point was simply playing with her, it was no secret to him that Ellie was not very outgoing since they came back, an apparent oddity to her usual behavior. If it meant helping them out, John would be willing to let go of his own apparent _phobia_. “… I thought that maybe… you know, you could help us out with the horses a little. Like, I dunno, maybe you could find a horse of your own as well.”

“Yeah, sure.” Enough was enough, he could see she was getting desperate at this point.

“You don’t have to go if- Wait, really?” she flashed a smile, one far more honest and relieved this time as Sam turned to get his jacket.

“If it’s for our dear Ellie, I’ll cross mountains. Just don’t expect me to do it on horseback.”

“Listen, it’s not like that, its just…” Dina once again seemed to begin fumbling with her words, twiddling her thumbs as John rummaged through the closet to find something good enough for the outside wind. “Ellie’s not very talkative, you know?”

“I don’t know about that, she seemed pretty talkative on our ride over here. Also has a very diverse dictionary of ways to say _‘go fuck yourself’_ , I can speak from experience on that part.”

“Yeah but that was with you, every time I try and go up to her to talk she just stares at me like I got snails for eyes.” That image was not permanently engrained in his brains, but he couldn’t help but let out a bit of a chuckle. “I just thought that maybe if I had someone else there to bounce off of, that we can both talk to, that, you know, it wouldn’t be awkward.”

“So you’re just using me then to further your own goals of cheating with Jesse with your new gal pal.” He finally put on a coat he got from Jesse’s dad that he apparently had no use for anymore, it was a pretty comfortable green leather coat, though he would often have to roll up the sleeves due to the coat being just a size too big.

“John come on.”

“Tsk tsk, Dina, I never thought you to be the Vixen of Jackson, what will I ever tell Jesse.”

“Now you’re just being an ass.”

“Yeah, I am. Now come on, I assume the horses get uppity if you try and ride them past their bedtime.”

As they left the house, John remembered to lock the door with the key Maria gave to him, though so far no one ever tried to enter without even knocking first, you could never be too safe, even in a place like Jackson.

Outside the wind seemed to die down as the sun still looked like it had a few good hours till fully dropping past the mountains. While the inside of his little shack could not be matched in comfort, one thing he could still never get enough of was the fresh air of the outside. And in a world where airborne spores can kill you in an instant if you breathe them in, that was something most people took for granted.

“So anyways, you never told me what all that gear was for. Don’t tell me we’re actually going to a damn minefield.”

“Oh it’s nothing, just… well, you’ll see.”

He raised his brow, yet didn’t press the matter further. _‘I swear, I’ve met Clickers who carried less foreboding with them.’_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the wait.

* * *

“Woah there Shimmer, settle down.” Ellie pulled the reins of her horse as she did her final lap around the makeshift obstacle course they made.

“36 seconds, just shy of your last time.” Cleetus the old stablemaster said as he hopped over the fence and into the field.

“That’s good though isn’t it? I mean at least compared to my time.” Dina joined in, following right behind Cleetus.

“Well she ain’t no spring chicken, but Shimmer’s still got a lot of years left in her. Helps the fact that I think the two of you really work well together Ellie.” he approached the girl who was busy dismounting from the horse and took over the reins.

“Thanks Cleetus.” she said in a soft-spoken voice. It was so unlike what he was used to hearing from the girl that John couldn’t help but wince every time she spoke. “Are we done here? I don’t wanna seem like I’m in a hurry but… actually no yeah I kind of am.”

_‘There it is. And here I thought she left her sass at home.’_

“You’re leaving already?” Dina already looked defeated, not even trying to convince her to stay.

“I mean you and Cleetus can take care of the rest of the horses, it’s not like you really needed me for Shimmer either.” the horse neighed at Ellie’s words. “Ah come on girl, I didn’t mean it.” she patted the horse on the nose a few times. “Besides, Joel and Esther probably need my help for… things… back home.”

For now he had mainly kept himself to the sidelines, the majority of his reasoning for that being the horses, but also the fact that he wanted to see Dina’s attempts at entertaining this little playdate. At this point, it just became sad, so it looked as it was time for him to step in.

“Hey Cleetus, why don’t you give me a horse to try this out?” all three of the experienced riders turned to him as if he just grew a pair of horns.

“You sure about that son? I mean I can give you one of ‘em, but they don’t take too kindly to people they’ve never met before.” Cleetus argued. He was a nice man from what John could gather, the two did not speak at all save for their small encounter when he had just arrived at Jackson. Like everyone else, he was suspicious of John and kept his distance, but it seems now around Dina and Ellie that ice has melted a bit, at least enough for them to start exchanging words.

“How about you give me one without a rider then. That’s what you do with beginners, right?”

“Well, we _do_ have one horse here I couldn’t find for anyone yet. Though…” the old man stopped himself and put a hand on his chin. “I don’t rightly know how smart that would be.”

“Ah come on. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You sure you want that?” Ellie but in, finally seeming to take interest in what was happening, and that was exactly what he was planning. “He’s a tough nut to crack. I saw Jack and Liam try and take a crack at him.”

“Yeah well I don’t think Jack and Liam have the right _connaissance_ that I do. Come on Cleetus, it’s better than me just sitting on my ass over there.” Shimmer neighed seemingly in agreement as Ellie seemed to huff in a rather entertained manner, she wasn’t quite there yet, but he’s already made up his mind on what has to be done.

“Oh this’ll be good.” Ellie gave a snide remark before leading Shimmer back to the stables. “Come on Dina, let’s bring him out. See how much Johnie boys reconaisance will do him good.”

“I thought you had _things_ to do, you change your mind?” Dina, finally understanding John’s strategy, followed Ellie back to the stables.

“No, but I’m not missing this.”

The two girls left with Shimmer as neighing could be heard from the other horses from inside. The more time passed, the more nervous John started to become. All the while Cleetus was looking at him with unimpressed eyes. “What?” he broke the silence between them.

“ _Connaissance?_ You rip that from the dictionary?”

“They’re useful for more than just burning, sometimes.”

“Right well, if this is what you want I won’t stop you, but its my head on the chopping block if Maria hears you broke your neck whilst trying to impress the girls.”

“Trust me old man, I wish that was what I was trying to do.”

After a few more minutes the girls finally came out with John’s fated end. It was a massive horse, almost twice as tall as Shimmer and with muscles that he was not sure horses could have. This was obviously a different breed from all the other horses, though to John it made no difference, as that thing looked more hellspawn that animal.

“Is that a fucking horse or a pitbull?” he could barely contain his disbelief.

“This... “ Dina said as she and Ellie barely held on to the reins of the struggling horse, it was not violent or unruly, but it was clearly struggling against the pull of the two. “John, let me introduce you to Mads.”

“Mads?”

“Yeah, like the actor.” Cleetus jumped in to help the two girls, soothing the protesting horse with small scratches on its neck, it seemed that he had a way to calm the thing down, so that was good to know at least.

“Actor?”

“You know, well actually you probably don’t, kids these days don’t know spit about the good actors.”

“Just because you keep using that word old man doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to know the meaning of it.”

“You don’t know what actors are?” Dina looked at him with genuine surprise. The three of them, four if you include Jesse, were all around the same age, and yet it was Ellie and Dina who seemed to know the most about the old world.

“No, is that like a soldier or something?”

“Yeah sure, let’s go with that.” Ellie said as she passed the reins down to Cleetus who was still busy trying to calm the beast down. “Anyways, you wanted a test drive, here you go cowboy, knock ‘em dead. Come on Dina, I wanna get out of the splash zone.”

They quickly hurried over to the other side of the fence leaving only Cleetus and John alone again, this time with a black-haired demon of an animal staring the both of them down.

“You havin’ second thoughts now boy?” Cleetus said almost as a pity question to try and convince John away from it.

“Well to be honest with you Cleetus, I was pretty confident in my abilities to overcome my phobia about ten seconds ago. Now not so much.”

_“HAH! So you admit it!”_ Ellie was heard shouting from the distance.

“But the little gremlin girl’s ramblings aside, please tell me my chances of surviving past today.”

“Well Johnathan I will be honest with you. You always have a choice in life, that’s what my Daddy would always tell me. And in this very moment, you have a choice between taming old Mads here or living to see another day, either way I do have to inform you that there is no hospital left in America as far as I know so we won’t be able to give you any medical attention, nor a casket.”

“Well then, let Jackson remember me as the Daredevil who rode to his death with a smile.” John faked what little confidence he could still muster, and hid his shaking palms in his pockets.

“It’s your funeral boy.” Cleetus slowly passed over the reins to John and moved away as fast as he could.

He gave a slight nod to Cleetus. Now presented with the issue of getting on the damn thing. It towered above him, and there was no way in hell that he could ever muster a big enough jump to get his leg on the other side. Before he could tackle the problem, he would have to address one thing first.

“Hello there Mads.” he spoke as softly to the horse as possible, making no sudden jerking motions or doing anything that might agitate it in the least. It seemed that now that it was finally stationary, the horse ended its endeavor of struggling against its reins.

“Keep track of it’s ears. If they go backwards, that means he’s getting angry.” Cleetus advised before he jumped over the fence to join up with the girls. John took it to heart.

“Now you see, I am in quite the predicament. The girl over there needs a bit of a laugh, and I think I can provide that to her. So all I’m asking is that you don’t kill me, and I’ll put an extra carrot in your hay bale tonight. Deal?” He knew that the horse couldn’t hear or understand him, but it felt nice to make this sort of one sided agreement. At least he couldn’t place the blame on himself if he ended up crippled. “And if you break my legs my ghost is gonna put needles in your fucking hay bale, got that?” the horse neighed aggressively, causing John to take a step back. _‘Right, tough guy attitude doesn’t work, remember that.’_

“Come on, we haven’t got all day!” Ellie yelled from what seemed like a canyon away. John would have shouted back to her to hold her horses, but that was beneath him at this point, mainly because he didn’t want Mads to be offended.

“Come on boy. I’m not asking much, just that you cooperate a bit here. Now… I will attempt the mounting. So please… Behave, okay? Please.”

Once the tension in the air reached boiling point, John thought not to delay the inevitable any further. He managed to get his left foot in the first strap and pull himself up on the saddle. Before he could even get the other foot in place, he could feel Mads starting to get agitated. _‘Come on you sonuvabitch, we had a deal. Don’t bail out on me now!’_ he mentally cursed himself and wished that horses were telepathic, yet reality soon came hurdling back in the form of Mads violently beginning to jump around and gallop about the obstacle course.

All in all it took them about an hour to set everything up, the planks, the hay bales, the little obstacles that the horses would have to jump over. All the efforts was soon dashed away like tears in the rain when faced with Mads’ violent charged. With unrelenting speed and fury, the horse charged through everywhere and nowhere at the same time. For a few seconds, it would be galloping around, never truly gaining enough speed to be able to jump the fence of the course, and then in the next few seconds, it would violently jump in place, trying to kick off John.

“Iron grip don’t fail me now!” he desperately held on to the horn of the saddle as the reins had long since slipped his grasp and were currently being flipped around more than Mads’ maine in the wind.

Whilst he was quite literally clinging on to dear life with his unwelcoming and double-crossing steed, the spectators were apparently having the time of their lives watching the little show they were putting on. Once in a blue moon when Mads decided to slow down, he could hear Ellie and Dina cheering the whole thing on, his only wish was that they were cheering for him, but life is a cruel mistress, often quick to disappoint her children.

“Kick his ass, Mads!” Ellie shouted.

“Don’t hold on too hard boy, the saddle might start hurting Mads’ neck!” Cleetus yelled out with genuine worry, but not for him it would seem.

His only light at the end of the tunnel right now was Dina, who didn’t seem to join in on the two’s mocking, but that may have been because she was too busy laughing her ass off at the whole thing.

_‘The things we do for friendship eh pops?’_

If ever it was possible to experience turbulence on a horse, then now might be the time. But thankfully, the show seemed to be dying down, as he noticed that Mads’ movements started being slower and slower, his actions less erratic.

“That’s it, come on! Either you settle down or I break my neck, it's one or the other you damn traitor!”

Whilst John may have been determined to come out as the victor in this battle, life proved to be a cruel mistress once more. In a sudden turn, his right foot slipped off of the strap just in time for Mads to make one last attempt at freedom.

The horse neighed and fought with all it had, and eventually, John had to submit. With one last kick and jump, he was sent flying off the horse, thankfully with all his limbs still not broken and into a nice soft pile of mud to break his fall.

The oncoming applause seemed more intended to cheer on Mads than it did help heal John’s wounded pride, not only from his cathartic defeat, but from the betrayal of a blossoming business relationship.

Cleetus was quick to jump the fence whilst the girls were too busy wiping the tears from their eyes, no doubt from laughing at the greek tragedy happening before them, or was it more a comedy in their eyes?

“You alright there son? Anything broken.”

“Just my pride.” he said stoically as he lay there in the mud.

“Well count yourself lucky, our boy Mads here is known for breaking a lot more than that.”

“I can imagine.” John struggled to get himself back on his feet so for now he made due with just sitting down in the mud until he had enough blood pumping through his system again. “Where did you fucking get this thing?”

“Had some traders come in a year ago willing to pawn him off. He was actually a caravan horse.”

“Explains the muscles I suppose.”

“Oh no, he was just a little baby when I first took him in, he’s only about three or four years old if I’m remembering’ right.”

“Well... I’m glad I got to experience his personal growth first hand.”

“I’ll give you credit though, you lasted longer than Jack did.” once he was actually off the damn thing, Mads seemed to have the audacity to try and come closer to him.

“Really, how long did he last?”

“Bout five seconds.” Mads neighed to Cleetus words.

“Damn, you really are a monster huh?” John spoke directly to the horse again, to which Mads neighed again. “You know for a dumb animal he sure does like responding to us a lot.”

“Horses are smarter than we give ‘em credit for. More loyal than dogs I find, and definitely more loyal than other people.”

“Cheers to that I suppose.” Now that the pain in his back had finally resided and he had finally gotten feeling back to his legs, John managed to pull himself up from the mud.

John and the horse locked eyes together one more time, and while it seemed to still be somewhat agitated that he had attempted such a thing in the first place, there seemed to be a lot less animosity between the two. It was only after a few moments though that he had noticed the big grin Cleetus was giving him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked in genuine confusion, he wasn’t used to people looking at him with a happy expression, not lately anyway.

“Nothing. I think you may have won him over a bit though, just a little bit. Just remember, no horse bonds after a single ride together. It took Ellie a few months before she and Shimmer got used to each other.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment then.”

“You should.” Dina and Ellie appeared behind the two. “Like Cleetus said, Jack barely managed to get on the damn thing, and you were riding it for a full-… Well, a really long time.”

“Is that what you call it nowadays? Riding? Back in Boston we called it a grand slam to the dunk offs.”

“What?” somehow his Boston roots always seemed to confuse those around him, even others from Boston, but he never seemed to pay much mind to it.

“Never mind. Anyways can one of you help me with Mads here and getting him back to the stables.”

“You wanna rein him in even after that whole stunt?” Cleetus raised his brow in genuine surprise, it shows that he was not used to people trying further than initial attempts.

“Why not? You said it yourself, no horse bonds after a single ride. If I’m gonna start riding that little shit, might as well have it get used to me.” John explained.

Cleetus put his off hand to his chin and began to contemplate. “I suppose you have a point. Sure, tell you what, come in here when you got spare time and I’ll have the two of you spend some quality time with each other.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now hand over those ropes old man.” carefully, Cleetus passed the reins over to John again and the two slowly started to make their way back to the stables. Before he crossed the field however he turned to the girls and gave them a smile. “I’ll see you two later.”

“Right, don’t lose your head. Mads _loves_ kicking.” Ellie said as the two turned around away from the stables, however just before they were out of sight, John saw Dina turn her head around and give him a wink and a thumbs up.

_‘Glad I could be of help.’_ he gave a nod to the girl and ventured off into the stables.

“We did some good today Mads. Hope you know that.”

Mads only neighed in response.

“Yeah fuck you too buddy.”


End file.
